Unexpected Saviour
by lizard1969
Summary: "That was the last time Sam and G spoke. That had been 18 months ago." Sam leaves for one last tour with the SEALS leaving Callen behind. But when Sam's team is captured, the SEALS turn to the only person who can save Sam and his team. Post "Vengeance" season 3 and a bit AU.
1. Chapter 1

A springboard story from "Vengence" season 3.

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS:LA nor the wonderful characters.

**Chapter 1**

"_Ok, talk to me!" hollered an angry Callen staring straight at his brother in arms._

"_G…you can't understand; once a SEAL, always a SEAL," yelled Sam towering over a frustrated Callen._

"_So make me!" Sam abruptly huffs and turns away from Callen shaking his head. "Right I'm just not good enough any more? I'm not in your unit…"_

"_You know that's not true," Sam turned to face a flustered Callen._

"_Really…we visit a SEAL training camp, you bond with a SEAL team and suddenly everything else doesn't matter, our partnership doesn't matter, NCIS doesn't matter. I respect them…I do Sam and I respect you. But I can't agree with you on this. Remember the reasons you retired…Raina, William and Latisha," continued Callen as his voice started to become louder and more determined. "What happens to them when you don't come back?" The last question made the partners freeze. They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. The magnitude of Callen's implication was a slap in Sam's face. Callen didn't want him to go. He needed the big guy. He didn't want to lose his brother._

"_Raina and I have discussed it, G. She's cool with it. It's only a short tour, a specialized assignment. Seems like you're the only one having issues with it," Sam said quietly, trying to defuse the situation. He didn't want them to part with so much hurt and anger. He truly wished Callen would understand._

_Callen looked at Sam and he felt so betrayed, hurt and so very afraid for him. Callen couldn't protect him thousands of miles away. He didn't want him to leave. "Fine. Your mind's made up. Don't know why you bothered even telling me." Callen couldn't stand to look at Sam any longer so he just stormed off. _

"_G! __**G! G!**__" bellowed Sam. Callen didn't stop._

_That was the last time Sam and G spoke. That had been 18 months ago._

Callen had become very acquainted with the imperfections of the ceiling of his Spartan abode. Night after night he was so tired he couldn't wait to hit the proverbial sack, but he'd continuously lay awake replaying Sam's goodbye knowing he couldn't have stopped it, even though he had tried. It had been 18 months already with 6 to go. Sam had visited Raina and the kids whilst on leave. He tried to reach out to Callen, but Callen always managed to be on assignment. Hetty noticed the familiar pattern but she wouldn't intervene…she couldn't. This was a brother's quarrel.

It was 4am, his body was aching and Callen couldn't stand it any longer. He decided it was time to dissect the sacrificial toaster and practice Pashto, having already mastered the Romani dialect thanks to Hetty. He hadn't been feeling right recently. His joints were stiff and more painful than usual. But what really annoyed him were the constant headaches. It seemed like there was never a reprieve. He put it down to old age and the stress of work.

Callen had finished pulling out the toaster's element as the sun rose. That was his cue to go for his morning jog. He stared at the toaster, which wasn't going to give him any toast this morning. He really didn't care; he hadn't been hungry lately anyway. He was doing up his shoelaces when his phone rang. Hetty. _What does she want? thought Callen. _He really needed to go for a jog this morning to try and clear the fog that was in his head. Reluctantly he answered his cell, "Yeah."

"Mr. Callen. OPS now!" was all Hetty said as she hung up her end.

That brief interruption to his morning left Callen staring at his phone. He knew their relationship had deteriorated somewhat due to his erratic and belligerent behavior, but she was never rude, never impolite. Callen changed into garments more suitable for work and raced his Aston over to OPS. Hetty was never one to mess with when her manner was brusque.

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The mission building was quiet. It was too early for the average NCIS staff to start their day. Callen swiped himself in and walked through the darkened corridor, aiming for the shaft of light emanating from Eric and Nell's precinct. He scanned around looking for any clues as to the mysterious call, but he found none. However he did notice, Kensi and Deeks' bags hanging from their respective chairs. _OK, the team's been called in…it's a work thing, not personal. Dodged that bullet, _thought Callen as he climbed the stairs two by two.

He arrived in the neon infused room to find Deeks and Kensi sitting solemnly near each other, Hetty standing by the touch panel counter looking like death warmed over but what concerned him the most was Eric and Nell's reaction to his appearance. They were startled and stood at attention…Nell's eyes were red and Eric couldn't meet Callen's eyes.

"Ok…I got here as fast as I could. What's going on?" asked a bewildered and suspicious Callen.

Hetty looked at Callen and he saw pain and pity radiating from the old woman. Callen had felt uneasy about the call before but now, he was simply scared, "WHAT?" he raised his voice.

Hetty turned to Eric and nodded. Eric punched a few keys and a video came to life on the screen. "The CIA received this overnight. It was relayed to us immediately," said Nell her voice wavering.

The screen showed scenes that Callen had seen numerous times and he was so nonplussed by it all, "Terrorists bargaining yet again…we don't give in to them Hetty, and it's not our jurisdiction. Why are we here?"

Hetty couldn't face Callen. She didn't know how to prepare him for what he was about to see. She didn't want it to be happening, "Keep watching Mr. Callen."

Callen shrugged his shoulders and shifted his weight. His knee was killing him. Callen kept watching and listening. The terrorists went through their demands as the camera scanned the eight kneeling soldiers. They were dressed in desert fatigues, blind-folded, bloodied with their hands tied behind their backs. Suddenly Callen started feeling sick…he recognised the last soldier…it was Sam!

Callen felt his head explode as the contents of his meager dinner came rushing up. He quickly turned and ran from the room. All the others could hear was Callen's retching and heaving.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks everyone for giving this one a go. Encouragement is always welcome. **

**Chapter 2**

The trashcan outside the intelligence room provided a discrete disposal receptacle for Callen's sudden regurgitation. It took a while for Callen to catch his breath as the heaving subsided. He leant against the wall and released his muscles. He slid down and sat motionless, staring out into nothingness. It was Sam! He knew something like this was bound to happen. He had tried to warm Sam but to no avail. His partner and his brother, captured by the most brutal of terrorist units, held up to ransom was a reality Callen couldn't face…didn't want to face.

What did they expect from NCIS? This was the SEAL's backyard, not their jurisdiction. This required fire power, this required might…not negotiation. Didn't the SEALs look after their own? So many questions plagued Callen, as his headache worsened. He pulled his knees up and gently placed his ailing head on them, breathing steadily, it abated some.

The rest of the team gave Callen a few minutes. They understood Callen's reaction to the video feed. The OPS centre was quiet until Kensi spoke up almost afraid to break the fragile silence, "I'll check up on him. Make sure he didn't do a Bon Scott." Hetty nodded still staring at the frozen image of the eight SEALs. Kensi walked through the doors, stood at the threshold and scanned for Callen. Sam's departure had been hard on them all, but Kensi knew about loss too and she empathized with Callen's pain more so than anyone else on the team.

Not having found him, she took a step forward and scanned again when she heard his voice, gravely and pained. "Down here Kens," he said looking up at her, his eyes glazed over. Her head spun to his direction. Her smile was what he needed. Kensi was strong but her vulnerability always helped Callen understand human fragility.

"I was going to send a search party," she answered moving towards Callen and sitting herself down next to him.

"I knew this would happen," he said quietly avoiding her gaze, embarrassed by the weakness he was showing..

"I know…Sam knew as well," she said trying in vain to comfort Callen.

"I can't let him die Kensi," continued Callen. Kensi noticed a slight pained hitch in his voice but it was resolute and strong.

"No you can't. We can't let him die. We will find a way Callen. We always find a way," she said encouragingly placing her hand on his forearm. "You've been different since Sam left. You need to get it together for this Callen. You need to get over whatever is plaguing you and just be the great agent we all know you to be. We'll find an angle and we'll save Sam and the others." Her hand squeezed his forearm tightly and she smiled at her superior.

Callen took in a long cleansing breath and turned to face his female teammate. He didn't need to say anything; he was a man of a few words. But his eyes spoke volumes. They lit up with determination and ferocity. Kensi saw the icey blue eyes sparkled and she felt inspired. She pulled herself up first, grabbed Callen's hand in a monkey grip and helped him up.

Suddenly the world tilted and he lost balance. "Whoa! Callen you ok?" asked a worried Kensi.

Callen shook his head and gave her a 'it's all good' smile, "Yeah," he answered dismissively.

A skeptical Kensi looked hard at Callen not quite believing him. "Kens, I'm ok."

A suspicious Kensi looked at him sideways, biting her tongue, knowing that pressing Callen for information would always result in failure. But her eyes never left him.

"I'm fine," answered an assertive Callen trying to get past her. She stood her ground maintaining a vise-like grip on his arm and raising her eyebrow. Callen stopped and looked at her squarely in the eye, "Come on Kensi…let it go."

"Just know I'll be keeping an eye on you," she answered letting go of his arm. Callen felt abashed as he nodded averting her penetrative glare.

Kensi walked in first feeling confident that she had reached Callen. She was ready to kick some ass. Callen trailed in behind her with an air of professionalism and conviction. Hetty always felt solace and safety in the presence of **that** Callen. She looked questioningly at Kensi who nodded back with a smile, she in turn nodded encouragingly to Nell, Eric and Deeks. Callen made it a point to ignore the questions and innuendos, the sympathetic looks and the sheepish gazes and focused on the video feed that had paused on Sam.

Callen straightened up. His body ached. He brushed off the pains and spoke commandingly. "Who are we dealing with?" Callen asked the question to everyone in the room.

"The terrorist group has proclaimed themselves as the_ Warriors for the Downtrodden_. They have recently come onto our radar due to their sudden cluster of violent and erratic activities. They are a small splinter cell of the Al-Rashidah Group; a prominent and extremely active and dangerous Islamist terrorist group. Their self-proclaimed leader is Raza Kaleen. We are still trying to gather intel on him. All we have is a very distorted photo. His cell is based in north-west Pakistan near Wana…" explained Nell.

"Wana…as in Battle of Wana 2004?" asked Callen staring at the screen, which now included a photo of Raza, all sorts of documents and a satellite map of the area.

"Exactly. The place is known for its terrorist proclivity being near the border with Afghanistan. It is the home of the Wana Military base. It is also isolated, located near some low-lying mountains and hills with a lot and I mean **a lot** of caves, perfect for hiding and sheltering from satellite scanning," finished Nell looking at Callen sheepishly.

"I know the area…I did some work in Tank just east of Wana…great places to hide. The locals are secretive and very suspicious of outsiders," added Callen.

"Is there anywhere you haven't worked?" asked Deeks trying to lighten the mood.

Callen turned to Deeks, giving him a look that if possible, would've turned him to stone. Deeks feeling admonished sank further back into his chair. He understood there was no messing with Callen on this one.

Having made his point, Callen turned to Hetty. "So what have the SEALS done about this?" he asked rather acerbically.

"Things haven't gone exactly to plan this time…" Hetty managed to get in before Callen interrupted her.

"This time?" asked Callen skeptically, "Too much of an effort? Too busy covering up murders?"

"No that's not it at all, Agent Callen," a deep authoritative voice answered Callen's question. It made them all spin around to face the origin of the sound. At the door stood Lt Commander Westerman, flank by two corporals.

"Ah! Lt Commander, good to see you've found the place. Please come in," said a very courteous Hetty. After all, he wasn't the enemy here contrary to what Callen believed. Callen pulled himself straighter, as the Lt Commander and his corporals approached him. It was all about intimidation and Callen was never intimidated.

The Commander stood at attention in front of Callen, "Special Agent Callen." His eyes lacked the condescension and arrogance Callen saw the first time they met. But it didn't change Callen's feelings towards the man. He didn't utter a word but his look was transparently belligerent.

Hetty noticed the tension between the men and she intervened, "Lt Commander, this is Agent Blye, Det. Deeks and our intelligence analysts Mr. Beale and Miss Jones." The Commander lost the staring competition between Callen and himself, then turned to face and acknowledge the people in the room. "So what is your report on the matter, Lt Commander?" asked Hetty whilst staring at Callen, hoping that he'd play nice for Sam's sake.

One of the corporals gave Eric a thumb-drive which he accessed and displayed on the monitor. "This is the first base on the outskirts of Zhob. This was where Raza was holding the prisoners. Fairly in descript, looks harmless enough. We proceeded with all the necessary pre-attack surveillance and intel gathering. We were satisfied that the retrieval would be successful. However it wasn't as you can see from the footage."

Pictures spoke louder than words. The SEAL retrieval team was decimated.

"No one from Team Delta survived. There was no way that the rabble Raza controls could've done this…no way. They're peasants not trained soldiers," said Westerman.

"Maybe your intelligence was wrong?" asked Hetty.

"No! no, we check our sources and the images over and over. We weren't wrong. They knew we were coming. These men are trained mercenaries. I am certain of that."

"Of course they knew you were coming," added Callen condescendingly. "No matter how backward you think these cells are, they all know the procedure. They know what to expect."

Westerman's scowl displayed his irritation with Callen's comment. "Yes, Special Agent Callen. We are well aware of that. This isn't the first hostage retrieval op we have undertaken. You saw their fire power, you saw the number of men…they knew specifics, they knew our tactical plan."

"So are you suggesting one of the hostages ratted you out…or that there's a leak somewhere?" asked a fully focused Kensi, now standing next to Callen.

"Possibly a leak. Keep watching. Next video Mr. Beale," answered a weary looking Westerman. "As soon as we located the second base near Miran Shah, we organised our second attempt. But they were long gone when we got there. However as you can see, they left a few land mines and reminders of what they do to their prisoners."

The scene on the screen made Nell gasp in horror. The solders were being blown up left right and centre; land mines, detonating traps, timed bombs. But it was the following scenes that made the room fall deadly silent; the heads of Team Delta on pikes.

"Oh Lord…" gasped Hetty. Eric and Deeks' faces blanched shocked by the horrific scenes whereas Kensi just grabbed Callen's forearm. There was no emotion on the agent's face, but Kensi could feel the tension pulsating through his arm. That was enough to tell her Callen was angry, and an angry Callen meant Sam would come home.

Westerman asked Eric to stop the video as the lights slowly brightened. "We have lost two of our top teams…brothers and friends. We simply cannot try again because it is obvious that our methods won't be effective. They have important friends who have access to a plethora of deadly weapons. We have come to the conclusion that our way isn't the right way here. We are here asking for help."

_Uh huh, that must've been hard. I glad his pride doesn't get in the way of his duty, _thought Callen to himself.

"So what is it that you want from NCIS Lt Commander Westerman? This isn't in our brief albeit one of our former agents is a hostage," argued Hetty.

"We need to have our men back. We need you to do what you all do best. Save our men," said Westerman, emotion choking the proud man.

"We'd need Presidential clearance. It is an international affair and if our involvement ever came to light, the US's foreign campaign and credibility would be severely damaged," answered Hetty shrewdly.

"Clearance is on its way," answered Westerman. "The only people aware of the your involvement are the people in this room and the a few highly classified paper-pushers." Hetty raised her eyebrows in respect for the officer's effective and resolute leadership.

"So what would you propose, Miss Lange? You have the Navy SEALS at your beck and call," said Westerman.

"Ah yes…a plan. You see Lt Commander Westerman what you failed to understand the first time you became acquainted with my team is that we **do not **fail. You made derisive comments about my team especially about Special Agent Callen yet his skills and that of all my team are exceptional. We will formulate a plan and it will not go beyond this inner sanctum of which you will not be a part. Just be ready to provide transport home for your soldiers. That will be all Lt Commander Westerman and give my warm regards to Phil…that would be Admiral Dickson to you," finished Hetty dismissively.

Westerman looked around at the NCIS team. Each face was blank, each face was determined, each face wanted him out. He nodded and left.

Suddenly everybody allowed their bodies to relax from the tension they were apparently holding. "Whoa, you told him Hetty!" said a bright Deeks.

"Thanks for sticking up for us," said Kensi sitting herself down next to Deeks.

"No thanks needed. Sometimes people need a taste of humility. Mr. Callen you were rather restrained," said Hetty looking at him. It was true. Callen had been extremely quiet and rather self-controlled. He had that look.

"There was nothing **to** say. My actions always speak louder than words. There was no use engaging in a hostile banter. I needed his information and I wanted him gone. That's all," answered Callen. "Now…**I** have a plan!"

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The first thing Callen noticed was the constant haze of heat. He had forgotten how stifling it was in Pakistan. When he showed up at his friend's house, Mustafa didn't even recognize him.

(In Pashto) "Mustafa," said a disguised Callen smiling.

"How do you know my name? Who are you?" asked a very defensive and alert Mustafa, keeping the door half open whilst peering out.

"Really? You don't recognize me?" continued Callen, chuckling to himself how real his disguise seemed and wonderfully well he articulated Pashto.

"No. I don't have time for beggars. Go now!" Mustafa said convincingly whilst trying to shut the door.

Callen had had enough fun…he could always count on Mustafa for a laugh. "Oh, it's me Callen, Mustafa," he said placing his hand on the door and pushing it open as he removed his shemagh.

"I don't know a Callen. Please leave," insisted a perplexed Mustafa. Callen was Caucasian, with sandy blond hair and brilliant blue eyes. This was not Callen.

"Mustafa…listen. The night in Lahore, you drank too much remember, the red head flirted with you and you followed, but there was one thing you didn't realize, she wasn't a she. A secret you and me only know …do I need to say it?" teased Callen looking at his old friend with a wry smile.

Mustafa's face dropped with surprise and concern. No one knew their secret yet this stranger did, "Ok…you know about Lahore. If you are Callen, show me the scar, the scar I gave you."

"You want me to show you that…out here…where people can see me taking off my clothes?" continued Callen amazed at Mustafa's paranoia.

"Ok ok…come inside but stay near the door." Mustafa moved back and allowed Callen to enter but to his surprise Mustafa was brandishing a gun. Callen just shook his head and pulled up his brown linen tunic, then twisted his body to reveal a jagged ten centimeter scar just under his left rib cage.

"Happy? Eight years ago in Kabul. I had been lent out to you at ISI (Pakistani Secret Service) and we had just cracked the case when you were captured. I found you beaten and drugged out of your mind. You attacked me while I was trying to free you. You thought I was one of them," a tinge of sorrow clouded Callen's face. It was a painful memory that he hated remembering.

"Yes…I was hallucinating…I thought you were someone else…the drugs they gave me…I stabbed you with a rusted blade. But you…you saved me," finished Mustafa, staring at Callen and wiping the tears that suddenly started to slide down his cheeks.

The look that transpired between the two colleagues was intimate and so very powerful. It was Mustafa who lent in and grabbed Callen into a strong embrace, patting his back several times, then grabbed his shoulders pushing him away to get a good look. "This disguise it's…brilliant…amazing. How?" asked Mustafa, but it didn't surprise him. He knew Callen very well, he knew how easily Callen could transform himself but this was extreme even for him.

"Well, let's see…my suntan is actually a skin dye…contacts to hide my baby blues and last of all hair dye…easy and so effective but everything starts to come apart after 2 weeks and this carriage turns into a pumpkin. That's my window of opportunity Mustafa. That's the time I have to complete my mission," explained Callen turning serious.

"Come sit down…what do I call you?" asked Mustafa clearing a chair for Callen.

"It's Aziz Umar. We were university friends. Both engineers. We haven't seen each other for some years and in the mean time my ideas have become politically radical," explained Callen.

Mustafa stared at him, and his face cringed in frightening anticipation, "You want to join Raza's group? Ahhhhhh….the hostages, they're American. I see! First of all let me tell you, you are mad, absolutely mad, then tell me your plan."

Callen recounted as much as he could to the precise detail then took a breath and stared at an incredulous friend. "Your plan is insane!" gesticulated an angry Mustafa whilst pacing back and forth in the dusty room of is two-room hovel. "Callen, you have no chance of succeeding…it will be suicide. Raza's group is extreme and brutal. The marines, there is no hope for them…no hope and no hope for you if you get caught."

Callen was sitting, indulging in some angoor sharbat, and totally ignoring Mustafa's ramblings. Mustafa stopped and stared at Callen. Cocking his head in frustration, "Are you listening to me? No you're not. You've made up your mind haven't you?" Callen didn't respond, however he looked up at Mustafa and smirked. "You have you bastard! Well I won't help you…no and you can't make me, Callen…not this time."

"Mustafa you owe me and you owe me big. I don't need a lot. I just need an introduction to Hussein Aban, then I'll do the rest," stated a very relaxed Callen.

"Raza's recruitment man…you are serious about this?" asked a worried Mustafa finding a stool and sitting opposite Callen.

Callen nodded, his determination and sincerity biting at Mustafa's heart, "One of the marines is my partner. He's my best friend, no, more than that, he's my brother Mustafa…you know what that means to me. He also has family. I won't let him die not if I can stop it."

Mustafa understood how important family was to Callen and he understood why he was so adamant in seeing this through. He was convinced, "He is a lucky man, your friend. Ok, I will do it. My father-in-law is attending Jummah tomorrow. Hussein does most of his recruiting there…I'll arrange an introduction." Mustafa took a moment to take in a breath before continuing, "Callen, you must know how serious the situation will become. They are very suspicious the best of times. You need to be paranoid, you need to be vigilant even when you are asleep and you **will** be on your own…"

Callen saw the concern in his Pakistani friend. He smiled hoping it would quell his fears, "I know and you should know I work best that way. I only need a week at most Mustafa. I've got SEALS backing me up. I don't want you to do anything else. I don't want to cause you and your family any trouble…"

"Well there's nothing more to say…"

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Friday morning didn't seem any different to any other, but Callen knew it would be. Today he would cease to be Special Agent G. Callen and become Aziz Umar. He filed G. Callen away, sound and sound in the recesses of his mind. Maybe if everything went according to plan, he'd open the file again. Callen sat up and felt that damned headache pound against his skull. He didn't hear Mustafa approach, "Callen, you alright?" asked his concerned friend.

It took a moment but Callen lifted his gaze and stared at his friend, "Yeah…yeah I'm good. Just a headache. No more English, Mustafa. Pashto from now on ok?"

(all dialogue is in Pashto)

"Fine…Aziz. We need to go," said Mustafa.

The walk was short, maybe fifteen minutes along a stony dusty road. Callen kept his head down and walked a step behind Mustafa. Most of the town's men had congregated outside the Mosque ready to enter for the Jummah. Callen had studied and practised all the rituals ad nauseum. He wouldn't make a mistake because he knew they'd be watching him…a new face always roused curiosity. Mustafa and Callen noticed a group of men involved in a heated discussion, amongst them was Hussein and Mustafa's father-in-law. Mustafa gave Callen a worried look, "This is not good."

Nevertheless they approached the group of men and waited hovering quietly on the perimeter. Callen could hear their discussion, "Hussein you can't involve anymore of our youth. They need to be home with their families…they need to earn a living. The little ones are starving."

"You don't understand old man, they **are** helping their families by fighting for Islam. Yusef if you keep talking like this one might think your allegiances lie elsewhere," accused Hussein.

Yusef pulled his shoulders back, "Watch your tongue little boy. You may have the force and influence of Raza behind you, but my life and my soul are in the hands of Allah."

"I mean no disrespect. We should get inside," said Hussein, obviously intimidated by the town elder, motioned to his posse and turned to head into the Mosque. Mustafa saw the tension in the old man's shoulders release. He walked up and greeted his father-in-law, "Good morning father."

Yusef was taken aback, "Oh Mustafa, my son, how are you?"

"Fine. Hussein causing trouble again?" he asked glancing in Hussein's direction.

"Not more than usual. It pains me Mustafa, that he blinds the youth with his grandiose speeches. They're so young, so vulnerable and so easily led," said Yusef as his eyes fell on Callen; his eyebrows scowling at the newcomer. Mustafa noticed Yusef's distraction.

"Father, this is Aziz Umar. He is a university friend from Kulachi," offered Mustafa looking rather at ease with his lie.

Yusef looked Callen up and down, "Aziz Umar…umm from Kulachi. Do you have an uncle called Fahad Umar?"

Callen could see right through the cunning old man. He was testing him. But Callen had been prepared for it and the lie came easy, "Fahad? No sir, but I have an uncle Kabir in Kulachi. He is a tailor."

Yusef took a deep breath and smiled, "Oh yes…Kabir the tailor. The memory of an old man forever failing me. Welcome Aziz, welcome to Wana. You will join us in prayer?"

Mustafa smiled as did Callen, "Of course." The younger men allowed Yusef to enter first. "Sitting with my father-in-law will give you clout. Hussein will be curious and he will want to meet you," whispered Mustafa. Callen nodded maintaining a very humble and meek demeanour. They took their places kneeling on the opulent rugs with the heads bowed when Callen felt a presence beside him. He couldn't look across as prayer had begun but he knew who it was and he couldn't hide the smile from his face. Callen hadn't missed a beat. He played his part perfectly.

After the Jummah had ended, he and Mustafa exited the Mosque. Hussein was talking to some youths near the ornate gates of the Mosque when a young man approached Callen and Mustafa, "Mustafa, how are you friend?"

Mustafa stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the young man. His look was cold and serious. It was obvious there was no love lost, "I am not your friend. If you please…"

"Oh Mustafa…how long will you hold onto that grudge? Anyway this doesn't concern you. Hussein wants to meet your friend Aziz. He has heard much about him."

Callen looked at Mustafa. The look said everything. This was it…now Callen would be on his own and Mustafa didn't like it one bit. Trepidation and fear evident on Mustafa's face. "Does he need your permission, Mustafa?"

"Mustafa, I'll meet you at home," said Callen reassuring his friend this is what he wanted. Mustafa nodded, patted Callen's shoulder with affection and left. It was hard for him to leave Callen, but this is what he wanted and Mustafa respected that.

Then Callen turned to the messenger. "**He** has a name. I'm Aziz Umar." The messenger's face was startled by the power behind Callen's retort. It took him aback and left him standing almost speechless when Callen heard another voice.

"You see, Aziz. You send your soldiers to do the most meaningless task and yet they cannot succeed. So what hope do we have to topple the western regime, I ask you?" Husssein clapped the soldier on the head and sent him away, then turned his attention to Callen. "Aziz Umar, pleased to meet you. I'm Hussein Aban. I think you know who I am," smiled Hussein.

Callen nodded trying to appear unassuming and lowly, "Yes. It is an honour."

"It is refreshing to find a man that doesn't suffer from the sin of pride and you, Aziz, have a lot to be proud of…engineer and military man and yet you are here in Wana," said Hussein looking suspiciously at Callen. Callen looked around, feigning a sense of secrecy and fear.

"Ah you are afraid others might overhear our conversation. Come, let's walk." Hussein and Callen started walking along the desolate road, "Tell me why are you here?"

Callen looked at Hussein and then down at the ground, "I lost someone very dear to me at the hands of those western dogs. It was then I realised that our military was controlled by the corrupt who do the bidding of those of are not of our faith and don't understand our struggles. So I want to help our people take control of what is truly theirs…I want to join Raza's group. I believe I can be of much assistance."

"An educated man who has seen the truth. If only other's were like you brother. Tell me, how did your sister die?" Callen stopped dead in his tracks. They were quick. Eric's backstopping was holding. They had checked him out before he had made his debut into Wana society, so to speak.

Suddenly his face became sullen and a grim shadow loomed on his features, "Allyra was caught in American crossfire. She bled out on the road, alone…my beautiful sister."

"I feel your pain brother. Join us and we will make them pay. Our camp is just beyond those hills," said Hussein pointing northwest of their current position. "Stay, pray and fight with us and get your revenge. Raza will be pleased with you."

Callen smiled and nodded. "Thank you for this opportunity. I will not let you down." He was in.

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They walked together whilst his entourage lagged behind. Callen found Hussein a frustrating and boring thug…nothing else, on the other hand Aziz hung on his every word until they arrived at the camp.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for taking the time to read the story and leaving comments. Truly appreciated. Skippy1967…silly question. You should know me by now ;)**

**Chapter 4**

The driver pulled up to what appeared to be a campsite. The drive wasn't long but it left Callen with a headache and an overwhelming feeling of nausea. This was more than travel sickness…but he couldn't be distracted now. He took in deep breaths and focused on the situation at hand.

Hussein noticed Callen's stiffened posture, "I too was nervous the first time I met Raza. You'll be fine, friend."

Callen nodded with a smile, controlling the urge to beat the man to death.

The camp wasn't at all what Callen had expected. Nothing impressive. It was well hidden inside the side of the mountain that loomed over Wana. Apart from a few sentries and well-camouflaged areas, the place was very low key. There wasn't a fence around the camp and no designated security points. This made Callen doubt the intel Westerman had collected and it also made him a little nervous. But he couldn't let fear or anxiety get the best of him. He needed to be patient. He hoped that his credentials would get him well inside the organisation.

Hussein stepped out of the jeep and encouraged Callen and another man to do so too. "Gentlemen this way," offered Hussein.

Callen gave the other recruit a questioning look as they both followed. He watched as Hussein greeted soldiers left, right and centre. They walked past camouflaged Humvees, jeeps, assault helicopters and…tanks! They had tanks. Red alarm bells started ringing! This was not a rabble group that the security agencies thought…someone was backing these people, someone with a lot of money. His curiosity allowed him to lag behind Hussein, "Aziz, come Raza is waiting!" Callen picked up his speed and jogged into the cave behind Hussein. Callen looked around and marvelled at the engineering feat that had been created. These were open caves; maze like cavities dug out from the side of the mountain. There were recesses that resembled rooms and a flow through effect that would allow evacuation within minutes. Callen started memorising the layout: something that came easy due to his eidetic memory; and he also started counting the soldiers.

Hussein led them deeper into the cave maze as natural light seemed to diminish somewhat, until they reached a cavernous area where a group of men seemed to be having a heated discussion.

"_They haven't responded Raza. They are planning retaliation…another rescue mission. We need to move our camp."_

"_I agree…we are not safe. Kill the marines or move location. A week has been too long already."_

"_Gentlemen I take you opinions on advisement. But my decision stands. We have decimated their elite SEAL teams. Our message has been very clear. They will negotiate. We stay."_

Callen, the new recruit and Hussein waited near the entrance for permission to enter as the two advisors made their way out, grumbling and obviously very angry. Raza was left on his own for a while until he motioned to someone in the shadows. The man approached. Caucasian…maybe eastern European, tall, muscular. He looked familiar. Callen was sure he had seen him before. Raza leant in and spoke quietly, "Kill them both." The tall man nodded and left through the back exit.

Callen stopped himself from gasping. It wasn't the fact that Raza wanted to the two men killed, hell he'd do the same in his position. He was surprised that Raza had spoken in English with a perfect accent.

"Aziz…Aziz man come on," Hussein pulled Callen's arm waking him from his rampant thoughts.

Callen and the new recruit walked forward towards Raza. He felt Raza's eyes all over him and the other guy. He found it unsettling. But it was short lived as Raza warmly welcomed Hussein, "Brother welcome…ah I see you have found more that support our cause."

Raza recognised the other recruit, "So you are Akim's brother. Welcome. Hussein get him settled." Hussein didn't like being ordered like a dog, but he complied. Callen didn't miss Hussein's attitude and neither did Raza.

With the two men gone, Raza walked towards Callen. At first an uneasy feeling washed over him, "Aziz Umar…engineer and military man…thank you for joining our cause."

Callen bowed his head, "It's an honour."

"Aziz, we are all equal here. Come sit," Callen followed Raza and they sat at a small table. Raza pulled out some papers. "You're an engineer…mechanical?"

"Yes…" said Callen looking eagerly at Raza.

"I need a man, a good man to oversee the maintenance of the transport vehicles. There are a few men who can work on repairs, but there is no one who can be a diagnostician," finished Raza.

"That I can do Raza," replied Callen making eye contact with him.

Suddenly a charismatic smile appeared on Raza's face, "Good…good. Anything you need, Hussein will show you where we keep the supplies…if not we'll get them somehow."

Callen noticed a slight urgency in his voice, "Are we on a time limit?"

Raza didn't smile this time. His face was serious, "We are always on a time limit. We have two Humvees that aren't operational and they need to be."

"I understand. I'll get straight to work," offered a humble Callen.

"May Allah be with you in our struggle."

Callen was in. The duties Raza had given him allowed him a certain degree of freedom to move around the camp. He just needed to play it safe and bide enough time to free the hostages without drawing attention to himself.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam Hanna was counting 5 days…5 days and nothing. The SEALS hadn't come. After the last 2 failed attempts, he knew they wouldn't. Sam knew there was only one person who could get them to safety, but he knew Callen wouldn't come. He wouldn't risk his life after the argument they had when Sam left.

The SEALS had been left in a room that allowed a ray of sunshine to stream through at a certain time of the day. Their hands and the legs were tied by unforgiving ropes that had dug into their skin. They were grimy and dirty. But they didn't cower before their captors. They held their heads up high. Sam led by example.

"Last time it was 5 days, Sam…5 days when they moved us," said Greg, a fellow SEAL.

"I know," Sam said sullenly, trying to remain calm.

"Something's different this time," piped up the youngest of the team, Harvey.

"Do you think they're preparing for something big? Do you think they might start…" Thomas stopped not wanting to voice his thoughts.

"What? Start to pop us off, Tommy?" asked Hank, the most outspoken of the team.

"That's enough Hank. We can't start doing this to ourselves. We need to stay alert and focussed just in case there's a moment, an opportunity to escape…and if we can't, we take them down no matter the cost 'cause we're SEALS," said Sam trying to keep up their morale.

"They destroyed two of our best teams, Sam. There's no one else…they were the two top teams…there is no one else!" said Leshawn, starting to raise his voice.

"NO! Don't do this Leshawn…don't! Someone will come. We need to stay hopeful, OK man!" reiterated Sam.

Suddenly the door opened. Four men stood at the door, two carried assault rifles while the other two brought in the food and untied the hostages' hands and feet. They didn't say anything and didn't make eye contact. They waited until the hostages had eaten. Then their hands were tied up again. The older soldier at the door spoke up before they left, "We take you outside for walk. Stand. You run, we kill you."

Sam looked over to his teammates, eyeing them to keep their cool and they followed his instructions. They walked out into the daylight shielding their light-starved eyes from the blazing summer sun. Each soldier walked around taking in sounds and smells. They looked around watching the Pakistani recruits; their instincts at their highest. Suddenly Sam found himself drawn to a man working on a Humvee. He kept his curiosity veiled. He recognised the stance…he recognised the way he cocked his head when he was puzzled but the man in front of him didn't look like G until he turned his head slightly, catching Sam's eye and giving him 'the smirk'.

_No way Sam thought…no way. _He smiled. _He came!_

Callen noticed Sam and his heart leapt for joy when he saw his partner relatively safe. He'd get Sam out…alive!

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	5. Chapter 5

**Short chapter and sorry for the delay **

**Chapter 5**

The adventure outside had been more productive than just topping up their vitamin D. Sam couldn't help the smile that had blossomed on his face. The others just kept giving him uneasy looks and questioning glances, but Sam would wait until they were safely inside their makeshift cell.

They were herded in like cattle and their ankles tied once again. Each SEAL had found their spot and settled for another long agonizing wait until Harvey spoke, "Sam why have you been smiling, man?"

"Yeah, know somethin' we don't?" reiterated Hank.

"As a matter of fact…yes, yes I do," said Sam, his face still gleaming from the hope seeing Callen had given him.

"Well spill it," encouraged Frank.

"The cavalry is here boys," said Sam.

"Where? The SEALS are here?" asked Thomas excitedly.

"Oh no better than that…my ex-partner is here. You remember him Hank?" said Sam almost egging him on.

"That weedy fellow who insulted our integrity!" he replied.

"Yeah…"

"He couldn't save himself if a bee stung him," snorted Hank.

"Really…he survived 5 bullets slamming into his weedy body…5. Now shut it Hank and let me tell you a story…"

Sam kept his team entertained with the various cases he and Callen had worked on. The men couldn't believe the pure genius of Callen and his unfortunate past. Night came and sleep claimed them all except for Sam who couldn't wait to talk to Callen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

There had been no better sight than seeing Sam alive and well. It made his heart swell with pride and relief. He had worked on the first Humvee and assured Raza that it would be finished the next day, something that Raza was thrilled about. Before Callen could get some rest, Hussein joined him on the ground beds that littered the sleeping quarters.

"Hussein?" asked Callen calmly fiddling with his boots.

"Aziz…Raza likes you. You work well to win his favour," said Hussein. Callen was uncertain if the statement was a true compliment or a disguised threat.

"I'm following orders and helping our cause," spoke Callen like a true fanatic.

"Yes…anyway there is a roster for sentry and hostage detail. Tomorrow you'll be on sentry detail for a few days and then on hostage detail. After you get the Humvees working of course," finished Hussein looking rather dejected.

"With Allah's help, I will. Are you well Hussein?" asked Callen playing dumb and humble.

"Yes…I sometimes think Raza humours me and it pains me because I would give my life for him," said a saddened Hussien.

Callen didn't know how to approach the situation. He needed to stay impartial yet ingratiating, "Raza has great power and great responsibility. He needs to be strong. I believe it would be very hard and wrong for him to show favouritism. I am sure he values you and holds you in high esteem Hussein, or else he would not entrust you with so many important tasks."

Hussein lifted his gaze to meet Callen's, "You talk with great wisdom Aziz. Thank you. Good night."

Callen watched Hussein leave and thanked his lucky stars that he was on sentry duty. His plan would start taking hold. The adrenaline had started to abate as Callen was coming down from his high. He gingerly laid down on his battered and weathered mattress and suddenly felt tired and achy. He didn't feel well coming into this mission, but now he felt worse. He felt warm, almost feverish and the nausea and damn headache, now a constant friend. Callen convinced himself it was nothing and that Sam and his team's lives were the most important things. With that he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Covering metres and metres of dusty and dry horizons wasn't something Callen was accostumed to, but he knew it needed to be done. He had been assigned the northern end of the camp, the furthest one. His walk took him over undulating mounds of rock and sandy soil. Callen stopped and looked around. He was momentarily out of range from anyone's view, so he crouched and started digging a shallow hole and once finished, he placed a remote-detonated bomb with enough juice to make a lot of noise and nothing else. These were the perks of working on the Humvees and having access to bomb making materials. He placed two more. Tomorrow and the next day he'd do the same on the western and southern sides of the camp. Everything was going to plan.

Two more days came and went. The Humvees were fixed and raring to go, the bombs were in place…now for phase two with plenty of time to spare. He was on hostage duty and this would be the perfect time to get Sam in on the plan.

"Aziz, you release the rats and I'll distribute the food, ok?" asked Taj already plating up bread and brown slop.

"Do I cut the rope or untie it?" asked Callen, hoping for the latter.

"Untie…just untie," replied Taj curtly. This made Callen inwardly smile.

As per usual the guards stood at the door as Callen and Taj walked in. The prisoners got into their positions as Callen started to untie the ropes of the prisoner furthest away from Sam. Sam needed to be last. Callen kept his head down avoiding eye contact. He got to Sam. Both friends played it well. Callen slyly slipped something into Sam's trouser pocket, then got up and stood back waiting for Taj, "Eat…and then outside."

"Yeah…yeah we know," hissed Hank. Suddenly one of the guards rushed to him and hit him hard with the butt of his gun, forcing Hank to the ground.

Sam gave the guard a hard stare. "No one talk disrespect. Now no outside. Aziz tie their hands," said Taj.

"But they haven't finished..." protested Aziz looking at Taj.

"They need to learn respect. Next time they will learn to keep their tongues silent. Now if they want to eat, they can eat like dogs."

Callen had no choice. He couldn't make eye contact with Sam so he avoided looking in his direction altogether as he tied up their hands loosely whilst Taj stood silently. With Callen finished, the entourage left the hostages. Sam gave it several minutes before he weaseled out of the ties and encouraged the others to do so.

"He's your man? He's Callen?" asked Harvey rubbing his wrists and digging into the food

"He **is** my man. Boys make sure you make it look messy huh? Wouldn't want G's cover being blown?" said Sam searching for the note of paper Callen had hidden. He found it and unfolded it.

"Wha' duh it sa'?" asked Thomas with his mouth full of food.

"Didna ya ma teach ya manners?" hollered Hank, also stuffing his face.

Sam couldn't help but smirk…they were SEALS yet they were still boys. Sam lifted his eyebrows, "Ok…men, it's going down tomorrow night."

"Already? He's only been here a short time and on his own. You sure we can trust him Sam?" asked a wearisome Leshawn.

"G works quick…there's no messin' around, and yeah, we can trust G…I trust him with my kids' lives. So no more talk of trust. This is how it's goin' down. Sometime after night prayer, there'll be a barrage of explosions. As soon as we hear the first one, we need to be ready. That means, hands and feet untied ready to run. The wall will be busted open and there'll be transport waiting. We are to drive east for 30 km and Westerman will be waiting to take us home," explained Sam trying to stay calm and resolute in front of his men, whilst his head was screaming with all the disastrous complications, not to mention Callen's role in all this.

"Sam there's a lot of things that can go wrong?" said Jose`.

"I know…I know. But it's either this," said Sam holding up the piece of paper, "Or rotting in this damn hellhole."

Leshawn turned to Sam, his shoulders slouched and almost defeated, "Your ex-partner, Callen, you trust him don't you Sam? Trust him with your life?"

"Man…the man is the closest thing I have to a brother. He **will** get us out and he will get us out in one piece," replied Sam, smiling remembering the feeling of safety had always had with Callen.

Harvey the youngest and brightest of the team, cleared his throat causing them all to turn their attention towards him, "Sam, what about Callen? Does it say how he'll get out?"

Suddenly the mood turned sullen, "No, no it doesn't. But knowing G like I do, he'll get out as smoothly as he got in."

"I hope so because if this does work, I'll wanna thank him," he replied.

"Yeah, it'll be beers from all of us."

In the midst of their chatter they heard the door being unbolted and they frantically wrapped the ropes around their hands. Sam was relieved to see Callen come in again to gather the plates. The SEALS behaved well and were very subdues ignoring the agent that had planned their escape. As Callen collected Sam's plate, the partners made eye contact. Sam saw the crease lines around Callen's eyes. They always betrayed his anxiety. As Callen left, Sam began to worry. Callen never showed weakness, never showed anxiety…maybe this time Callen was worried for a reason.

The door was bolted again and Callen turned to Taj, "See…they ate like dogs. You were right brother."

"Of course Aziz. Treat animals like animals and they learn their place," finished Taj.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

No one slept that night. Callen managed to ignore the signs of the malaise that plagued him during the day, but at night he suffered. Apart from the constant throbbing in his head, his body had started to hurt…a pain deep in his bones that he was unable to shake. He found himself afflicted with nausea that robbed him of his appetite; he had rarely eaten since he arrived at the camp. He had lost a considerable amount of weight and he was worried that in his weakened state, he'd make a mistake; a mistake that would cost the SEALS their lives. However he put his physical ailments to the back of his mind and focused on the sequence of events for the escape; the diversions, the liberating of the hostages, the Humvee waiting and the exodus, 30 km east of Wana then home. The plan was perfect. Westerman had been given strict orders from Callen and Callen hoped that he would follow them to the tee.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Please don't hate me for the ending ;)**

**Chapter 6**

After night came morning, and this was the last scheduled day Callen had with the hostages. Callen had procured four SigP238 compact guns from the armory and hidden them in his clothing; the loose tunic providing a well-disguised hiding place. Callen entered the makeshift cell as he had done the previous times avoiding eye contact with the SEALs. Then he maneuvered himself behind each soldier making sure that the ropes were loosely tied and then slipped a gun to four of the hostages including Sam. Callen didn't arouse suspicion. No one suspected anything. It was suddenly happening and the tension amongst the SEALS was rising as it would only be a matter of hours before they'd be free.

After having dealt with the SEALs, Callen was helping Taj clean the plates when Raza approached. Callen was too preoccupied with running the plan through his head and the leader's presence made Callen jump, "Aziz, I startled you?"

"Sorry Raza, my thoughts were elsewhere. I was thinking about how to solve the differential problem affecting the tank. What would you like me to do?" Callen recovered nicely. It frightened him how well he could lie.

"Nothing as important as that, Aziz. There will be a feast tonight outside after evening prayer. It is important to keep moral high when the war is so long and tideous," explained Raza.

"Thankyou." Callen nodded as Raza did too and left.

Callen wasn't expecting this turn of events. He was going to make himself sparse once the fireworks began and assemble with Sam and the others. Now it would only look conspicuous. He'd have to rethink his place in the plan. Deep down he knew this was a bad sign.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"That's evening prayer Sam!" stated Harvey excited, freeing his feet from the rope shackles.

"Ok…you boys remember the plan. There is no place for heroics. Callen gave us these guns for protection, not to draw attention to ourselves. We try and blend into the night and run for it. Is that understood men?" gruffed Sam.

"Yes sir," came the chorus.

The SEALS were ready, primed and ready to go.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Apart from the few sentries patrolling the camp, all of the soldiers had finished evening prayer and had moved to the direction of the feast. Goats were being spit roasted, and a spread of dips and breads, fruits and nuts and vegetable curries littered the makeshift table. Callen couldn't wait any longer. Westerman was going to blow this place at 2200 hours, regardless. There would be no way to get word to him to postpone the attack. Callen had no choice he had to start the fireworks now. He looked around and every one was relaxed and enjoying themselves. It seemed like the perfect time to slink away. But as he started to leave the feasting area, Hussien grabbed him by the shoulders, "Aziz my brother, where are you going?"

DAMN! thought Callen as his whole stance stiffened. Thinking quick on his feet he said, "Mother nature is calling."

"Oh she can wait…come come with me and taste this wonderful adrak lassi…Behrim is a fantastic cook," Hussein insisted as he pulled Callen towards the table, guiding him away from the place he was supposed to be running to. Callen feigned a smile as his eyes kept looking towards the SEALs holding cell. However, he sat on a stool as he allowed his hand grab the detonator that was loose in his pockets. It was now or never. As Hussein came over with the drink, Callen pushed the button that would start the domino effect. Suddenly the northern night sky was ablaze with fiery light, the men went ballistic, as they scrambled for their guns.

Hussein grabbed Callen by the tunic, "Come, let's go and arm ourselves." He turned believing Callen would be behind him. Callen followed for a few steps before veering off towards Sam.

Raza stood watching the chaos unfold. The night gave him no respite from the panic and terror he saw before him. _This was not supposed to be happening, _thought Raza_. There was no warning._ Suddenly he felt everything slip through his fingers.

Seconds later, another explosion erupted on the western side sending the soldiers into more hysteria. Then minutes later a third explosion on the southern side. There was chaos and panic and in the midst of it, no one noticed Callen slipping away.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

It was the first explosion that masked the blasting of the cell wall. The SEALS, dusted themselves off and ploughed through the rumble. Sam led his team as they took their defensive positions. The coast was clear and there was their transport as promised. _Callen always keeps his promises_ thought Sam, smiling to himself. He stood near the blast hole as he and Hank covered the other Seals' run to the Humvee, "Go, go! Hurry!" Sam shouted. A soldier came round the corner and Sam plugged him twice.

They were all in as Hank and Sam followed suit. Once inside Hank screamed, "Leshawn get us outta here!"

Sam grabbed his shoulder, "No we give Callen some more time." The two alpha males locked eyes, "He said he'd be here."

Moments passed and Hank glared at Sam. What could he do? They had waited long enough. If it were up to Sam, he'd wait an eternity but he was responsible for the lives of these SEALs. He was their commanding officer. He had to make the decision. He looked out one last time then nodded dejectedly to Hank, as the man yelled, "GO! Go Leshawn!"

The Humvee's large tyres kicked up sand and sped off to the roaring _yahoos _of the freed SEALS. Minutes into their escape, Sam looked out the small rear window in time to see Callen come round the corner. He stood rooted in the spot, alone whilst the terrorists ran around looking for the enemy and as Sam drove away. He froze against a background of fear and despair. Screaming just seemed so pointless and so useless. He was left behind…again…

Sam lost it as Callen silhouette became smaller and smaller. He yelled frantically to Leshawn eyes glued on Callen, "Stop! Stop the damn Humvee! Callen's back there!" As Leshawn was about to apply the brakes Sam watched in horror as Callen's figure jerked, swayed and slowly dropped to the ground.

"NOOOOOO! We have to go back! We need to help him!" screamed a distraught Sam.

Hank and Thomas, pulled him down, "We can't stop Sam…we can't! They'll kill us all and then Callen's work would've been for nothing. Honour him by seeing this through."

"You talk like he's dead already. You don't know G…he can survive anything and we never leave a man behind," yelled Sam, flaying his arms in vain, trying to get to Leshawn.

Hank and Thomas held him tight as Sam's resistance was starting the wane, obviously accepting the inevitable. As the Humvee sped away he saw from afar that his partner hadn't moved. He hadn't gotten up. Then he heard Thomas' voice quiet and soothing, "Sam he's dead. He's gone!" over the drone of the Humvees engine.

All Sam could do was put his head between his knees and sob, sob like a baby for the brother he deserted, for the brother he abandoned.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ten minutes into the journey, having covered almost 20km, their presence appeared on Westerman's radar, "Damn it. He's done it. That's our boys…Callen's done it. Fire the Patriots. Let's roast those sons of bitches."

The silence in the Humvee was shattered as the Patriots roared past heading for Raza's camp. The place would be decimated.

In minutes a feint glow littered the night sky as the earth shook. G was no more.

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	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Callen watched as the Humvee and his partner drove away to safety. He had done it. He had saved Sam so he could continue being a father and a husband, so he could live and have another chance. Callen was happy. But it was bittersweet after all. As the Humvee sped away, he was left with a sudden feeling of despair and hopelessness. He was left behind again, alone, like every foster home, like every family that changed their mind. He never really mattered. It seemed he was always so close, but not close enough. He was never important enough for anybody to go that extra mile. So he was always left alone to deal with the fallout. It wasn't something new but it hurt nonetheless…every time it happened including now.

In the midst of Callen's thoughts, as his heart shattered, he felt the familiar sensation of a bullet slamming into his body. The pain radiated throughout his upper body. It threw him off balance and he fell forward hitting his head violently against the hard dirt. He drifted in and out of consciousness, as the images of fire, smoke and desperate men flashed in front of his eyes like a strobe light. Moments passed and Callen forced himself to formulate some coherent thoughts. He was down, but not out. He couldn't stay here. He knew what was coming. He knew Westerman was a man of his word.

Everything hurt and his head was swimming, but mustering up all his strength and determination, he pushed himself up onto his knees with one arm. The other one wouldn't obey, the pain was excruciating. But he'd been through worse before. Slowly, like a baby learning to walk, he forced himself to his feet, grunts and all. Hunched over, taking in as much air as possible, he forced a step then another until he had covered several metres and he stopped, and looked up to the pre-dawn sky. Although he couldn't get a visual, he recognized the deadly sound barrier-breaking whirs. The Patriots had been launched. The first one hit followed closely by a second and a third. The impact was devastating. The air and the ground splintered and exploded. Callen turned away from the heat and the flames as his body was thrown into the air like a rag doll, landing in some bushes surrounding the camp. He hit the ground. He didn't feel his flesh burning and he didn't feel the shrapnel lodge into his legs and back. He just lost consciousness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The tragedy they had experienced took the form of silence. No one spoke, no one had anything to say that could alleviate the feelings of guilt and regret. The Humvee kept moving compass due east until a friendly voice came out of nowhere, "Attention men! It's Commander Westerman. How you boys doin'?" There was no cheering…there was only sadness for a fallen comrade.

Jose` looked everywhere for the two way radio, but couldn't find it. Thomas joined in on the search until Sam's rough voice spoke without looking at his teammates, "G always hides it, usually down behind the control panel. No one ever looks there."

Jose` glanced over to Sam with an apologetic nod of gratitude. But Sam was too grief-stricken to care. He had left Callen behind. He still couldn't believe what he had been forced to do. Sam had the privilege of being part of a select group that Callen trusted and he had let him down. He had shattered that trust. But it didn't matter really…Callen was gone and he would never get to apologize. He would carry this guilt every day until it would burn with him at his death.

Jose` leant over and ran his fingers around the panel until he found the switch and flicked it on, "Roger that, Commander. Team Charlie safe, sound and all accounted for and heading your way." The realization of what Jose` had said hit him suddenly, when the remaining SEALs all turned to face him. Jose`'s face crumbled as he whispered, "I'm sorry." Sam didn't flinch.

Westerman's voice was suddenly light and almost cheery, "Great news men! You are 5 clicks away from the military air transport we have waiting. All you need to do is drive right in and we take off. Over and out."

That's exactly what they did. The Humvee drove up the ramp of the Boeing Globetrotter. In minutes the ramp was up and the Humvee secured. Slowly Team Charlie exited the vehicle one by one. Westerman greeted them with a vigorous handshake and a congratulatory pat on the back. Last of all was Sam. Westerman's face broke into a huge grin but then he saw the state of the big man and was afraid to ask. He looked over Sam's shoulder expecting to see the hero of the moment; the man who would have his admiration and esteem for the rest of his life. But Callen's absence caused him concern. He looked around trying to catch the eye of any of the team. But they hid. They hid from answering him so Westerman addressed the big man himself, "Chief Hanna, where's Agent Callen? He was supposed to be with you."

Sam didn't even acknowledge his superior as he walked past Westerman. He found the furthest seat and started buckling up. "Chief Hanna I spoke to you!" Sam ignored him. Westerman was about to continue his chastising when Hank stood at attention in front of him.

"Sir, Special Agent Callen was late to the rendezvous. He was hit by enemy fire presumed dead and by then it was too late to turn back as we were under attack," finished Hank giving Sam and the others a sideways glance.

Westerman couldn't take his eyes off Sam, "Oh…I see." He was a tough and hardened military man, but the loss of a fellow soldier was never easy. There was no love lost between Westerman and Callen. Callen didn't have to help, he didn't have to risk his life…he just didn't have to. But the fact remained that Callen had, and in the process he had saved Westerman's SEALs, and a partner that had walked away from their friendship. He knew he needed to acknowledge Callen's sacrifice and death, he knew he needed to praise the man for his brilliance, he knew he needed to offer Sam his sympathies but for the first time in a long time, Westerman didn't know what to do. So he did the only thing he could, he avoided the topic. It was an awkward moment to say the least. Instead he mumbled, "Buckle up, soldiers."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Back in LA**

Standing on the OPS balcony, Eric blew his favourite conch, "Children gather round." He was greeted by annoyed and besmirched looks from Kensi and Deeks who nevertheless darted up the stairs.

"So you have an update?" asked an anxious Kensi. "Did Callen's plan work?"

Hetty took a deep breath, whilst they all held theirs. "Yes Mr. Callen's plan to save Mr. Hanna and his team worked perfectly. His plan also destroyed Raza'a camp and their faction. Hopefully never to rise again. In the meantime, Mr. Hanna and his team have currently landed at Pendleton. I am certain that Mr. Hanna will contact us when he is ready."

Deeks looked around, wondering why no one else had spotted the obvious…news about Callen! "Hetty…it's great Sam is safe but what about Callen? He was supposed to be with them." He looked to Kensi silently asking for confirmation, which he got in the form of an encouraging nod.

Hetty kept her eyes downcast as tears started to pool behind her glasses, "The official line is that Mr. Callen was late to the rendezvous and he was caught in enemy fire, presumed MIA."

"WHAT? Presumed MIA? They left him there? **Sam **left him there? Left, Callen? They didn't go back and check if he was alive? My god…what happened to _never leave a man behind?_ Hetty? Callen has always been left behind. He has always been on his own without anyone to look out for him. Now…now he died alone, Hetty….ALONE! He didn't deserve that. Can you imagine what went through his mind as he saw them driving away?" said Kensi in absolute shock, trying hard to comprehend the enormity of Hetty's revelation.

Hetty didn't have the answers to Kensi's questions and it pained her so. She wanted to make excuses for Westerman and his team, but she couldn't. None could be made. Hetty looked at Kensi and shook her head, as her breathing hitched. Kensi's anger turned into sadness as she fell into a chair, elbows on knees and head in hands, despair in tow.

Deeks noticed Kensi's grief and it broke his heart. She was right…to die alone amongst the enemy while your friends leave you behind. It made Deeks' blood boil. He turned to Hetty. Deeks didn't want to shoot the messenger but he needed to be heard. "Hetty, the place was destroyed…if Callen was alive then…damn! They signed his death penalty. Sons of bitches!" yelled a distraught Deeks, running his fingers through his shaggy hair whilst pacing to and fro.

"I know…I know. However their actions were protocol, procedure. Technically they followed the rules, but morally…." finished Hetty, steadying herself against the table.

"Do we get to bury him at least? Do we get to say goodbye to our friend?" spat a furious Kensi.

"I doubt it greatly, Miss Blye. A memorial will be held in his honour," said Hetty trying hard to hold it together.

"So there's really no hope," said Kensi begging Hetty to contradict her. She didn't but Nell did.

"It's not without hope," whispered Nell.

"What do you mean?" asked Kensi rather abruptly making Nell flinch and attracting the intense curiosity of Deeks and Hetty.

"I ran a thermal scan over the area and there **were** signs of life…there is hope and Callen being Callen, one never knows," explained Nell quietly, trying very hard to mask her own pain.

"Hetty?" Kensi turned towards her mentor, glassy eyed and agitated beyond belief. "We need to go in…we need to make sure or at least have friends bring him home."

"I'm sorry Miss Blye but we cannot. Remember Mr. Callen was never in Pakistan and we have no recourse being there. This was covert. This was black ops. These ops DON'T exist," explained a weary and frustrated Hetty. Then she added, quite compassionately, "and if you were to go, how far do you and Mr. Deeks think you'd get? A woman in a Muslim country and a Californian surfer. Neither of you speak Pashto, or Urdu of any of the local dialects and neither of you have contacts in the area. Mr. Callen knew the risk he was taking. He knew his trip might have been one way. We need to respect that and honour him." Hetty was shaking and she needed to get away. "Mr. Beale will inform you when Sam is ready to talk to us." She didn't wait for rebuttals or additional comments. She stood and took her leave. Hetty needed a drink, or two and then she needed to grieve alone, with her memories.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Kensi and Deeks still couldn't come to terms with the surprising turn of events. Nell was on the brink of an emotional breakdown and Eric was too shocked to know what to feel. Being relatively knew to the team, gave Deeks license to ask questions that everyone knew the answers to but were afraid to ask. "So has Callen ever come back from the dead?"

Kensi turned to face him, shocked at his question, "Really? Have you ever heard of tact?" Her voice started to hiccup as the rare Kensi tears started to form and roll down her perfect cheekbones. "There have been a few times…but nothing like this Deeks…nothing. We just need to accept the fact that he's gone."

"No…damn it…NO! Not until we have a body. Look I know I am new to all this spy covert thing…but I am certain that Callen is alive somewhere waiting for his team to come and get him. I will not believe he is dead and neither should you…all of you. We owe him that much. He's saved our behinds more than I'd like to remember," preached Deeks so animatedly.

"You know you're right Deeks!" added Eric. "We know Callen. We know what he's like and what he can get through. So he got left behind and maybe he was hurt, but he wouldn't give up. He is too strong and resilient for that."

"That's the spirit Eric," clapped Deeks, grinning from ear to ear.

"But I can't see what we can do from here?" asked Nell wiping the tears from her face and starting to believe in the miracle that is Callen.

Kensi couldn't believe what she was seeing and hearing. She stood angrily, "I can't believe you can't just accept the reality of the situation. He's gone guys."

"You never give in so easily Kens! How many years did you look for the answers behind your father's murder? You didn't give up. Give Callen that same amount of decency and respect," said Deeks moving towards her.

"Yeah, and do you know what that cost me…years of my life and most of my emotional sanity. It's hard enough when you lose someone, but when you allow yourself to hope and then have that hope destroyed…honestly Deeks, it's more than I can take," Kensi got up and stormed out of the OPS centre, leaving Nell, Eric and Deeks sad and demoralized.

"Kensi has issues Deeks, ones that are just too complicated. Add to that, this whole thing is about Callen…well it's a mixture made for disaster. Maybe we should just leave her out of this and let her cope the way she feels right," explained Eric.

"Ok…I didn't mean…" responded Deeks feeling rather abashed.

"Anyway I have an idea," quipped Nell, tapping on her board. "When Callen got Eric and I to do the backstopping, we snooped around his role in the Battle of Wana. It was redacted so thoroughly only the full-stops were left. However we stumbled across a photo of Callen and a man."

"A man? Care to be a **little** more specific?" asked Deeks trying very hard not to be sarcastic.

"That's all we got. We are now running it through international and local agencies, you name it, it will be scanned. I bet that this mystery man can help us," finished Eric.

"Well you know what…it's better than nada!"

xxxxxxxxxxxx

**Wana**

The locals had seen the missiles explode and they had smelt the burning of flesh. Raza's compound had been destroyed. A crater lay in its wake. Tears and loud painful mourning filled the air as mothers and sisters, brother and fathers looked and searched in vain for their loved ones who had joined the terrorist group.

Mustafa sat paralysed and conflicted. Callen had been party to this. He knew the cell had to be destroyed, but he had always hoped it would be a peaceful surrender. However naïve that was. He was angry and disappointed.

But he was also anxious. Callen was a dear friend and he had heard nothing from him. He didn't know Callen's endgame and he had a feeling of dread. He had to make sure that Callen wasn't among the dead or wounded. Something was telling him to go to the compound. The feeling kept getting stronger and stronger until he couldn't deny it any longer. His wife moved closer to him, "Mustafa, what is troubling you?"

Mustafa looked up at his gorgeous loving wife, "My friend Aziz…he joined Raza'a group and I'm afraid for his safety."

She ran her hand over his balding head. "You must go, look for him and deliver him to his family, Mustafa. It's the decent thing to do. I know you. You are a good man and Aziz is your friend," said his wife massaging his shoulders.

"I know. It is hard and I'm not that brave…anymore," said Mustafa looking up at his wife.

"You are the bravest person I know. You are scared you will find him no longer with us," she said.

"Yes, but you are right. I must honour my friend. I cannot leave him alone."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dawn was breaking and the drive was pitiful. It was hard seeing loved ones carrying the dead and injured back home. Mustafa stopped the car and got out. He stood on a small mound overlooking the crater that once was Raza's compound and the sudden stench of death overtook his senses. He placed a corner of his shemagh cloth over his nose. _It was stupid coming he thought_. However, his determination to find Callen outweighed his fear, so he continued his journey down to ground zero. Again his senses were overwhelmed and he felt compelled to leave when he stumbled and landed on his knees. He sat rubbing his knees and looking towards the wreckage. He couldn't go on. Callen would have never survived this…nobody could have. Mustafa sat and thought. He made his decision to go home and grieve his friend, not before he turned around to see the cause of his stumble.

At first it wasn't clear, the shadows of the morning contorting the landscape. It resembled a tree branch, but it wasn't. His curiosity piqued. He moved closer, angling his torch to get a better view when suddenly he jumped back in horror. It was a hand. He placed his torch on the ground and scrambled over. He started removing the camouflaging bushes to reveal a man. The man was dirty, bloody and unmoving, yet breathing. Mustafa moved closer still and opened his water bottle and poured it gently over the man's face. He wiped it and it seemed his prayers had been answered…"Callen!" as he sighed a breath of relief.

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	8. Chapter 8

**a/n sorry for the late update. I really wanted to update twice a week but lots of things having being eating up my time and it's been really frustrating. Thanks for all the great reviews and comments. They are fantastic. This won't be an epic like my previous one. I watched the promo and WOW…so now I have lots of plot bunnies but I will finish this story first. Bring on sept. 25…**

**Chapter 8**

**At OPS**

The scanning software and been running all night when a beeping noise, shook Eric from his beauty sleep. "Wha'? Wha'? Oh crap…Nell we've got a hit," screamed Eric.

Nell peeled off the paper that was stuck to her face and looked around like a deer caught in headlights, "We **got** something?" She was surprised by the impossibility of a hit. "Who is it?"

"Well his name is Mustafa Kadar…Pakistani national…lives in Wana…married…no children. That's all," said Eric surprised at the meagerness of the file.

Nell scrunched up her nose, "Wait, there…there's an encrypted file attachment. Open it Eric!"

Eric tapped and tapped on the keys, "Nell, look at the encryption level…we shouldn't be doing this. This is ISI…we should not be doing this. They'll trace it right here."

"Look, we'll take a peep and then start redirecting. Remember the method you used with that Japanese diplomat last year…" Eric gave her a _yeah_ look. "Right. We do anything we need to no matter the cost." Both analysts gave each other conspiratorial encouragement.

"Ok we have a window of 1 minute before they start tracing. Let's just hope we copy everything," said Eric. They watched the time run down and the percentage bar increase…5 secs 97%; 4 secs 98% 3, 2; 99%; 1 sec 100% complete and hack cut off...untraceable.

"Oh man that was close. We are genius," said Nell looking at Eric with awe. He didn't notice and her heart broke just a little. They were so great together, she just wished that he could look past Nell as a binary code, and see the intelligent woman she was.

"Let's take a look –" Nell stopped Eric by placing her petite hand on his.

"Maybe we should wait for Deeks? He is the one that…you know, encouraged us," said Nell.

Eric looked across at her and she was right, as unusual, "Yeah…ok."

"I'll buzz him," said Nell.

"No need to chickadees…early bird catches the worm. Watcha guys got?" asked a very upbeat Deeks.

Nell looked at him with a very hurt and confused face, "Deeks I don't get it. This that we're doing, doesn't change the fact that Callen is most probably gone. Why are you so…you know…jovial and all? It seems a little insensitive."

Deeks paused and looked at the two analysts. Eric was always hard to read unless he was scared or threatened by Sam, but Nell she wore her heart on her sleeve. He had to explain himself. He wasn't insensitive…far from it. His face morphed and the analysts saw the pain and desperation that laced Deeks troubled face, "I need to be. Someone needs to be. Someone needs to fight for him. I don't believe Callen's dead. Someone like him would have a contingency plan. All plans need a contingency. He would not have made such a mistake. I don't see how you guys don't get that?"

"They watched him die," said Kensi walking into the room. Deeks shook his head in disappointment.

"Kens…don't go there… at least let us try. They saw him get shot. That's all. I mean this man survived 5 direct close range shots. That's superhero stuff…heck Chuck Norris legend stuff," said Deeks trying not to hurt the girl any further. She looked at him skeptically, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Look, Nell and Eric, or Neric as I like to call them…" Both Nell and Eric cringed, "…have found a lead. Maybe this man can help…at least we'll know for certain."

"Kensi, he has a point. It's better knowing," added Eric waiting for a tirade from the raven-haired amazon.

Kensi took a deep breath and glanced at each NCIS agent in that room, "It **is** better knowing, I guess. I'll help…whatever you need me to do." Deeks smiled and then they all smiled. He was so relieved that even though the nucleus of the team was AWOL, they could still pull it together.

"Well how do we get in touch with this man, Eric?" asked Deeks. "You know this isn't my field of ex-per-tise."

"Oh please," Kensi scoffed, turning her attention back to Eric. "Can we contact him through the ISI?" asked Kensi.

"No." The voice was quiet yet decisive and firm.

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Mustafa frantically maneuvered his hands under Callen's back and pulled him out from under the thorny bushes he had managed to scramble into. He took out his water bottle and poured some over Callen's parched lips. The water just dribbled out. Callen's face was covered in scratches, cuts and burns. Mustafa noticed a nasty gash near his hairline. His clothes were torn and singed from the heat of the Patriot induced flames. Callen was in a bad way.

"Come on Callen, please," he implored tapping Callen gently on the cheek and keeping his voice to a whisper. There was no reaction. As he moved his hand away from under Callen's shoulder, he noticed blood, warm red blood covering his hand. Frantically, he torn open Callen's shirt searching for signs of a wound. But there was nothing. No sign of any injury that would bleed so profusely. Trying to keep his breathing under control and senses clear, he leveraged himself to one side of Callen and pushed him over. He saw the stained cloth. He pulled it away and there it was. Callen had been shot in the back and the wound was unforgiving. He looked around and noticed he had nothing to staunch the bleeding. He took off his shemagh, folded it a few times and pushed it against the wound. It alone wouldn't hold. He scrimmaged around and found a length of cloth. He secured the padding and tied it to Callen's body with the makeshift tourniquet. The pressure of the padding made a lifeless Callen moan in pain.

"Finally signs of life. Callen wake up now…wake up," Mustafa continued to slap and shake Callen. Finally his eyes opened. Callen's contacts had fallen out during the explosion and Mustafa saw the blue eyes he knew well. This time they weren't mischievous nor calculating, they were dull and confused.

"Callen, can you hear me?" asked Mustafa trying to get Callen to focus on his voice and his face.

Callen blinked rapidly trying to clear his vision. Then he stopped and focused on his friend, "Mus…ta..fa."

"Yes my friend, yes," smiled Mustafa. "I need to get you out, can you stand?" asked a relieved yet concerned friend, looking around for immediate danger.

Callen looked up confused, then his hand went to his ears as he shook his head, "Can't…hear….you?"

Mustafa positioned himself directly in front of Callen line of vision, "The explosion damaged you eardrums." Callen nodded. "Help me get you up."

"No…go. Don't get…involved in this…please," croaked Callen, shooing Mustafa away with his aching arm.

"Stop you stubborn son of a mule. I'm already involved. Can you get up?" asked a persistent Mustafa. Callen nodded slightly and reluctantly. Mustafa pushed Callen up into a sitting position and stopped when Callen yelled out in pain. He couldn't replace air in his lungs fast or fully enough. Mustafa saw Callen's left shoulder and cringed. It looked askew: broken, dislocated…he simply didn't know. Mustafa shook his head and started compiling a list of Callen's injuries. He was incredibly concerned for his friend. Callen didn't need pity now, he just needed help. So Mustafa donned a brave face and got stuck into Callen. "I don't care what hurts, you need to get up and into the car NOW!"

Callen just shook his head despondently. "It hurts...too much…" he said through ragged breathing. "Please…just leave me and go! Everyone does in the end."

Mustafa felt his warm tears streaming down his face. He knew as much of Callen as Callen had allowed him to know, which wasn't much. His story was known throughout the international agencies. They knew of the prodigious orphaned agent who went by one name, they all knew of his exploits and most of his assignments but no one really knew the man. No one knew what had made him who he was. No one could. So Mustafa knew he was privileged. He was a friend of the said agent. Not many could lay claim to that, and according to Mustafa, friends looked out for each other.

So he grabbed Callen's face and yelled, "NO! I will not leave you. Get up Callen!" His friend was dying and he was berating him. Callen eyes pooled with unshed tears of a painful memory. Mustafa saw it. This time he used a gentler tone, "Please my friend. You will not die today." Callen closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath then nodded to Mustafa. With Callen's determination, Mustafa managed, despite the grunts and screams of pain, to drag Callen into the back of his ancient Land cruiser. He positioned him on his side as to relieve the pressure on his wound and secured his shoulder. Suddenly Callen's eyes widened horrifically as his hand shot to his own chest.

"Can't…breathe…" Callen's face losing its colour as his lips started turning blue.

Mustafa quickly raised Callen to a slouched sitting position enabling Callen to take in relatively deep breaths. Relieved Mustafa sat taking deep breaths in himself. "You need to help me here…broken ribs?"

"I think…this…it's ok."

"Ok…I'm going to take you home. The road will be bumpy but closer than the hospitals. Too many hours drive to get to a hospital in your state and I can't let the authorities get you," said Mustafa about to leave when Callen suddenly moved. Callen's good arm had shot up and grabbed Mustafa's shirt.

Callen's eyes were burning with despair and fever, "No…Mustafa…no. I can't…bring this…to your home. Leave me…anywhere…don't…If they find out you sheltered…a terrorist," Callen managed to say as his eyes slowly started to close and he went limp.

Mustafa took hold of Callen's limp fist and released his shirt. He looked at Callen's wretched form and sighed, "We have no choice my friend." Mustafa was confused with Callen's reaction…terrorist? Why did he think he was a terrorist? All Mustafa needed to do was enable Callen distress protocol via his satellite phone and he would be saved. Mustafa knew that. Callen knew that. They had discussed it before he went into Raza's compound. It was their contingency plan. The question on Mustafa's mind was, why didn't Callen remember?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hetty's sudden presence heightened the tension that was already rampant in the OPS centre. "I think you all did not hear me the first time. We cannot go through any official avenues," scolded an irate Hetty.

"What can we do then? We have a lead and we need to get in contact with him…we need help," said Deeks imploring his boss.

Hetty drew her hands together as if in prayer and pulled them close to her lips. The other agents looked around at each other silently, until Kensi spoke, "Hetty if there's a chance…"

"I know Miss Blye…I know. I want Mr. Callen back home just as much as you all do and deep in my heart, I know he is alive. If we are to do this, it needs to be done fast before anyone has a moment to intervene. I know a man…I could make a call," replied an emotional Hetty looking at Kensi, when movement caught the corner of his eye.

There stood a smiling Deeks with a phone in his hand, "It's now or never."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Mustafa pulled the car in front of his house and noticed the whole street was chaotic. No one would notice Mustafa bringing Callen into his home. He opened the back of the jeep. Callen was still unconscious, blood pooling on the floor. Mustafa started mumbling prayers under his breath, when he was suddenly interrupted. "Mufti Kaleel…would…make you…clean the rugs…for misinterpreting the Koran…like that," mumbled Callen trying to open his eyes.

"Mufti Kaleel…from university? Callen…come on. Put you good arm around me," begged Mustafa quietly wondering at Callen's odd statement. Callen never went to university with Mustafa…Aziz did. He dragged a near comatose Callen closer to himself and eased him out of the jeep. Callen groaned and moaned and tried to bear some weight on his own legs, but failed miserably collapsing onto Mustafa.

Samina heard the noise outside and ran to see what the commotion was, when she was confronted with her husband and his friend Aziz, both men looking worse for wear. "Oh dear Mustafa, what happened?" she said distraught trailing behind her husband.

"Clear the bed in our room."

Hurriedly she did as she was told. She drew back the covers and placed a worn hessian sheet over it. "I'm going to sit him on the bed and turn him face down. You need to call your father," said Mustafa in a tone strange to Samina.

"Mustafa? Will you take him to the hospital?" she asked quietly.

"Woman just do as you are told." He hated talking to his beautiful wife like that, but this was a matter of life or death. He would explain everything when there was time. Crestfallen she left, wrapping her hijab tightly around her face.

Mustafa ripped the remainder of Callen's tunic open and surveyed the mess. He filled a bowl with warm water and added disinfectant. He slowly soaked a face towel and started washing Callen's back. Callen didn't stir. He cleaned the cuts and scratches and he washed the burns that littered his back. Then drew his attention to the bullet wound. He tried to remove the padding. It was more difficult than he thought. The blood had dried around the wound, so he used more force than he wanted and finally it came away. All of a sudden Callen's blood started flowing. He quickly washed it, only for more to seep through. He placed the washer over the wound to stop the bleeding and he waited, he waited for Samina to bring Yusef.

Mustafa was lost in his memories as he thought of the moment he had almost lost his life and his senses; Callen had rescued him. He knew the risk he was running sheltering Callen. But his alias was still in tact and the locals protected their own; they didn't protect liars, cheats…and undercover special agents. Suddenly the door swung open and Yusef appeared with Samina trailing behind. Yusef looked at Callen's form in the bed and his face paled, "Please Yusef. I know how you feel about…He is a friend."

"He joined Raza's group. He should not be here," said the elder sternly.

"Father, please…behind all the faces we wear, we are all the same. He is just a man who needs help," Samina cooed to her father. He looked at his daughter and relished at her compassion and generosity.

"Fine…let me see." Yusef moved next to Callen's inert form as Mustafa removed the towel. As his wrinkled yet nimble fingers prodded the wound he spoke to Samina, "Samina…get my medical kit." She nodded and hurried away.

With Samina gone, Yusef grabbed hold of Mustafa's wrist almost stopping the circulation and looked him straight in the eye, "He is not who he says he is." Mustafa felt terror grip him tightly. He didn't want to lie to Yusef. He knew he could trust Yusef so he decided to tell him enough of the truth that was necessary.

"He is not."

Yusef frowned, "Is he your friend?"

"A friend I owe my life to several times over."

"Then it's a matter of honour. I understand. This man needs a hospital Mustafa. But if I must I will help but as soon as he is well to travel he must leave…for Samina's sake. Now let me see. The bullet has entered here and travelled to his shoulder…I think it may be wedged in the bone. The extraction will not be easy. This will bleed. He is fortunate to be unconscious…it will be painful." Then his eyes wandered to the gash of Callen's forehead, "This is nasty. He will need stitches." Then he looked at Mustafa, "Anything else?"

"He had trouble breathing." Yusef frowned.

"First things first. This bleeding must be stopped." Then in rushed Samina. "Thank you Samina. Please boil some water, get some cotton rags and prepare that special brew your mother used to make when your brother had his seizures." Samina nodded and set herself to task, meanwhile he handed Mustafa a clean rag and a bottle, "If he starts to wake, pour a few drops and push hard against his nose and mouth. Careful not to inhale yourself. Are you ready?"

Mustafa nodded…then the nightmare began.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The procedure was arduous. Hours passed as Yusef struggled against Callen's body wanting to cease living. But he managed. The old man sighed with exhaustion as sweat beaded his forehead. He succeeded in doing the best he could; the bullet had been removed and the wound secured however the bleeding continued. This worried Yusef. Callen's arm was placed in a makeshift sling, the gash had been stitched up, shrapnel had been removed from his lower back and legs and his broken ribs had been taped…tight. Yusef had done his job, now it was up to Callen.

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	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Hetty slammed the phone and the agents' heads all snapped up to attention, "Damn, damn, damn!"

Deeks rose from the chair near the computer screen and approached Hetty, "What happened?"

A frustrated and annoyed Hetty looked at Deeks and saw a Kensi's worried face behind him. She couldn't hide behind lies, "I can't contact my source."

Kensi's face hardened as the possible consequence of never seeing Callen again slowly started to become reality. She knew the dangers of hoping. She knew how devastating the fallout would be. She looked at Deeks, who just shook his head, "Well what can we do now?"

The room became silent. "We are going to keep on searching for Kadar and see if we can find his whereabouts. Things aren't as dark as they seem guys," said Eric trying in vain to offer some hope.

"And in the meantime?" asked Kensi, who never wore sadness and helplessness well.

"We welcome Mr. Hanna home," said Hetty smiling, trying so hard to ignore the mixed feelings the team had towards Sam.

"He's here?" asked Kensi, trying to steady her breath. She didn't know what to feel. She was a strong woman, always in charge of her feelings but somehow seeing Sam forced her to confront a man she loved and admired, with feelings of disappointment and anger.

"He will be in oh…5 mins. He'll be so happy to see you all again and I am certain you will all greet him with the love and respect you have always had for Sam," finished Hetty, eyeing each agent, like a mother superior.

Deeks stood straight masking his anger, "Do we get to ask the question? Do we get to ask why he left Callen behind?"

"Do what you feel necessary Mr. Deeks. Just remember the whole ordeal was very traumatic for Mr. Hanna as well. He did what he had to. So is blame what he really needs to hear?" said Hetty as she stood up and exited the OPS room.

Kensi looked around at Deeks, Eric and Nell, "Guys…she's right. Sam needs us and we need to be there for him. He wouldn't have left Callen behind out of choice. It's war, nothing is fair in war."

"But he did leave Callen behind when he rejoined the SEALS," added a quiet Nell shrugging her shoulders.

Kensi gave her a look of apprehension. "Nell now you're not being fair…let's just give him the benefit of the doubt…that's all I'm saying."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mustafa sat by Callen as he fought for his life. Every time his heart thumped, Mustafa breathed a sigh of relief. Yusef didn't reassure Mustafa, he didn't think Callen would survive, but Mustafa knew how tenacious Callen was and sat with him. Hours had passed and fatigue had overwhelmed Mustafa. His own breathing lulled him to sleep. Meanwhile Callen opened his eyes and saw his friend and tried to smile, but his pain was excruciating. He hurt everywhere. He hissed loudly and the unexpected sound startled Mustafa from his slumber, "Callen?"

Callen's eyebrows drew together in confusion but he didn't have the strength to reply. His eyes closed again. Mustafa wrung the towel and wiped the sheen forming on Callen's brow. The fever had set in and Mustafa knew that unless Callen got help, his friend would die. He stared at his friend in absolute terror trying hard to think of any way he could get Callen help. Then it came to him. He had to find Callen's satellite-phone. He had seen Callen use it. All he had to do was ring the last number dialed, and hopefully help would come. Mustafa couldn't leave Callen's beside, not until he knew Callen wouldn't leave him first.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam stood tall outside the doors he had never hesitated to walk through, but this time was different. He had been home and spent time with Raina, William and Latisha. It was good to be home. He was grateful that he was able to wrap his arms around his kids…this time there would be no going back. He was home to stay. Callen had shown him the true meaning of brotherhood. Callen…He was back at NCIS without Callen. Thinking about his partner caused his shoulders to slump. If he felt the weight of his guilt and his loss, what would his old team be thinking? There would be questions to answer and their anger to bear. Was he ready? He really didn't care. He just wanted to be part of the team again. He needed to start making amends. He needed it. It was the only way he could feel close to Callen and maybe embark on some sort of forgiveness and redemption.

Sam opened the door and walked into a bustling NCIS. A few operatives walked past him and flashed a smile, some patted his back welcoming him home, but they weren't the ones that mattered to Sam. He emerged from the hallway and saw the bullpen to his left; his old desk and Callen's desk…neat and barren as always. Then a smile sprang to his face when he noticed Deeks and Kensi's desks…messy and untidy. He was happy things hadn't changed that much. Then he looked towards Hetty. She was there jotting away when she felt familiar eyes upon her. She looked up and saw Sam. Relief and happiness was what she felt. Sam stood in front of her alive and well, a little underfed battered and bruised, but he was home. She stood as Sam approached her desk, "Oh Mr. Hanna good to have you home, safe and sound." He enveloped her in his arms.

"Good to be back…I think," added Sam abashed and looking away. Hetty maneuvered her head so her eyes were able to catch Sam's. He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose I need to…um… Hetty I am so sorry. He shouldn't have come. His life was worth more than what he sacrificed it for. I left G and he found me and saved me…and I left him behind. Aren't you going to ask me how I could my partner behind?"

Hetty's eyes were pooling with tears. She looked at the colossus that was Sam. He was so imposing and so intimidating, that occasionally she forgot how sensitive and how spiritual he was. She took him by the hands and led him over to the two facing chairs in front of her desk, she motioned for him to sit and he dutifully complied. Hetty sat her small and delicate frame in the chair. She sat erect and placed her folded hands between her legs. Her eyes looked upwards trying so hard to find the right words that would appease Sam.

As if by divine intervention, she spoke quietly, "Mr. Hanna, no one has ever been able to convince Mr. Callen to act contrary to his mindset. He has found it hard living with your absence, that is true and he has been stubborn about admitting that fact. He has also made you and others believe that he ceased caring. But that was not true…once in his heart you are there to stay. Mr. Callen decided to rescue **you** because he cares about you and your family, and because he knew he'd be successful. It is not your fault. He orchestrated the plan. It was a one man operation. You followed the procedure as a team leader. You and Mr. Callen brought them back to their families to fight another day and to protect our country. The fact that things didn't go as planned is what our business is all about…the roll of the dice. Mr. Callen knew there was a substantial risk involved. Mr. Hanna please, I will accept and validate your feelings of grief, hurt and loss but I will not tolerate any guilt or regret on your part…I will not!"

Sam looked at Hetty sheepishly, then rubbed his eyes extinguishing any threat of tears, "I'll try…he was like a brother to me Hetty."

"And like a son to me."

Sam nodded and Hetty patted his knees in sympathy, "We'll try together."

Then he looked up at the OPS room. "Have you told them?"

"You underestimate your colleagues, Mr. Hanna. They are most excited to see you," Hetty contorted the truth quite successfully.

"Yeah?" he looked at her skeptically.

Hetty nodded, "Yes." She saw his pain and his guilt. There were no recriminations on her part but she really couldn't speak for the others. She had seen worse…and had done worse.

Sam nodded. He didn't believe a word she had said and it hurt Sam. It hurt him alot. He had let Hetty down. He had let his team down. How could he ever hope to earn their trust again? Hetty noticed Sam struggling with his conflicting emotions. He needed his team. She patted him on his arm, "Come…let's go." They climbed the stairs and stood at the threshold of the room. Hetty entered drawing everyone's attention, then Sam entered.

"Sam!" yelled Nell as she went in for a bear hug, "Welcome back!" As she let go, she turned uncomfortably eyeing Kensi to follow suit. Kensi got the message loud and clear.

Kensi walked over to Sam, avoiding eye contact, "Welcome home Sam. Good to have you back safe and sound." She hugged him as well but Sam could feel a certain reluctance from the junior agent.

He returned her hug more warmly and more heartfelt. It made Kensi feel awkward…and contrite, "Thanks Kensi." She still avoided his gaze.

Eric watched the interaction uncomfortably. He felt sad…simply sad. He looked at the gargantuan agent and went over before his interaction with Kensi was over, "Hey big fella. Good to have you back!" He gave Sam a handshake and a large pat on the back.

Sam smiled. Eric had a knack of doing that. Looking at his Santa-on-skis Hawaiian shirt, "Good to see nothing changes." They both shared a smile and it felt good. It felt like old times. Then he glanced over to Deeks. The look was not kind and it was not friendly. He didn't bother getting off the chair.

"Hey Sam…good to see ya man," said a despondent Deeks.

Sam was expecting it. Deeks and he had a strained relationship at the best of times, and now…after what had happened, he expected no less. Callen and Deeks had become tight after he had left, based on a certain camaraderie of broken childhoods, so Eric had told him. Sam could understand Deeks' fierce loyalty towards Callen. Callen had that effect on people…including himself and that's why this whole mess was so difficult. Seconds passed and Hetty felt the atmosphere become uncomfortable.

"So Mr. Hanna what are your plans now?" asked Hetty, hoping he would return to his team.

Sam stood awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I know I have to clear it with Director Vance, but I'd like to resume my position here," he said looking around for acceptance. They all smiled, but he could see the hurt on their faces and he knew they weren't sincere. "But I'd understand if…well…after what's happened you guys don't want me back," Sam said hoping the gang to negate his statement. He looked around for support. It wasn't there except for Hetty.

Hetty stepped up to Sam and grabbed his hand, "Mr. Hanna, you are an integral part of this family. We have missed you a great deal. Your departure was hard on us all and in light of the current situation…"

Suddenly Deeks blurted out, "Why are we letting the elephant in the room run rampant? No pussy footing around anymore and I think Sam would appreciate honesty. Am I right Sam?"

Sam looked around almost frightened of the whole situation, frightened that he might not be welcome, but he nodded in agreement, "The truth is what helps us heal."

Deeks stood from his chair, "So let's start healing. Sam we are angry…angry that you left Callen behind while you and **your team** got out safely. He risked his life for you, so you could come back to your family and friends AND YOU LEFT HIM BEHIND!" Deeks' face had gone red and his eyes glistened as the words just fell out on his mouth, regardless of the repercussions. Suddenly he felt Kensi's hand on his arm. Her touch drew him back to reality. He shuddered with the realization.

Sam stood dumbfounded. Then he angrily pulled himself away from Hetty and found himself face to face with Deeks, who didn't recoil and didn't flinch. "What? You wanna go there? Truth too much for you?" asked Deeks not backing down.

Sam wanted to vent his anger against Deeks. His eyes were blazing with an incredible furor. But the blue eyes he was staring into reminded him of Callen's blue orbs, and then he understood why everything was so wrong. He stepped back and took in a deep breath. The others looked over at Sam, mouths gaping.

He found a stool and sat down. His hands instinctively went to his head and he rubbed it several times before starting. The truth. It meant making himself vulnerable in front of his team. Putting all pride aside Sam started talking, "I was finding it difficult keeping the team's morale up. They were losing faith and hope. It was hard and I needed a miracle…ya know. We were outside one day for out daily walk and I look around, and there he was. I didn't recognize him at first. His disguise was one of the best to date. Then he turned his head and looked at me and then smirked…you know that smirk he does when he's up to no good. I couldn't believe that G would come. Suddenly our prayers had been answered. Then that was it…his plan was smooth, timed to perfection. Man, he was so good he had them all fooled.

G blew our passage out. We got out into the Humvee and waited. But he wasn't there…I begged the guys to wait and he still didn't come. The terrorists had figured out what had happened and were starting to come after us. I had no choice. I had to get them out and I knew G had a plan B…he always has a plan B. So we left and that's when one of the guys called out…G was standing at the edge of the compound…just standing. I yelled and screamed for them to go back and then I saw him go down. They wouldn't go back as we got further and further away...until I couldn't see him anymore. Then the patriots roared past and the place went up in flames. I don't know what happened to G. I wake up and I look in the mirror and the first thing that goes through my mind is G's silhouette standing in the shadows of the explosions and the gunfire. I get it that y'all angry with me and how I handled the whole thing, but I did my best. I did my best and I'm sorry."

Sam covered his face with his hands and the team could hear the silent sobbing of the giant man. He was right! They knew it but it didn't quell the anger which was now directed at the right target…the terrorists not Sam.

Kensi went over and held the man compassionately. All would be right…in time.

Suddenly the screen lights up with a familiar tone… "Incoming call…it's, it's Callen's phone."

xxxxxxxxxxx


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok…don't get angry just let me apologise…I am so very sorry for the delay in updating. I didn't expect my world to be turned on me when I started publishing the story. Things have finally started to get back to normal and I am anxious to finish this story. Hope it still holds some interest :?**

**Chapter 10**

Mustafa sat next to his injured friend and placed a hand on his brow. The fever hadn't abated and Callen was waning. There were moments of lucidity then moments of sheer confusion where he'd mumble in Russian, Pashto, French and another languages he didn't understand. Finally after sitting with Callen for hours it seemed, Callen quieted down and seemed to be resting. Mustafa needed that phone and this seemed like the perfect time. He remembered the knapsack Callen had asked him to keep safe. He had placed it in an underground safe he had under his sink where he kept his valuables. He pulled off the wooden cover to access a cavity that he nestled into. He fumbled for the handle and combination lock. He slowly and carefully turned the dial left and then right, counting the clicks.

Finally having imputed the combination, he turned the handle and felt around for the knapsack. Eureka! He pulled it out, and replaced order and security to the safe. He sat on the ground, glancing for a moment over to where Callen seemed to be resting, and opened it up. There wasn't much, as he expected: a change of clothing, some toiletries, two passports, some money in various middle eastern currencies and what he was hoping for…the phone. He stood up and moved closer to the window to make use of the sunshine. He turned it on and it took a moment to power up. Everything was working well. He moved closer to Callen and he was still sleeping. He opened the phone log and noticed there was only one number dialed, so he entered it in.

It rang…and rang… and rang…

"Hello…" said a very hesitant Mustafa.

"Who is this?" answered Hetty, low and curt, noticing the middle eastern accent.

"I am a friend of Callen," said Mustafa hoping he had reached the right people.

"Callen…you must have the wrong number, good..," continued Hetty feigning to cut him off.

"No please…please. Do not hang up. Please listen, I am Mustafa Kadar ISI, an old friend of Callen's. I'm taking a great risk contacting you. Please he needs help," he pleaded.

The room was silent. Still. Tense.

"Mr. Kadar, thank the gods…I am Miss Lange. Sorry about my response but I needed to be sure. We know about you and we know you are a friend. Is Mr. Callen alive?" asked Hetty closing her eyes readying herself for the answer.

Still the room was quiet.

"Yes barely. He is badly injured. I have don't have the means to treat him properly. I have tried to help him but he needs hospitalization. I cannot risk it here…for his safety and my own. If the authorities find him, they will kill him and me if they suspect he is a terrorist, or worst if they find out who he really is. He needs to leave this place…Please!" said Mustafa, almost desperate.

"Yes, believe me I understand the urgency. But we will need to be very discrete considering the diplomatic problems that might arise. But I'm afraid coming to Wana may pose a danger to you and your family if certain parties find out. Can he travel?" asked Hetty as Eric started uploading a very detailed physical map of Pakistan and their safe zones.

"I understand the dangers Miss Lange but there is no other way. Callen can be moved but I cannot guarantee he'll be alive when we get there," answered Mustafa looking anywhere but at Callen.

"We will need to take that risk…there is a place an hour's drive due west...secure and under the radar. I will send you the coordinates and our ETA. We will have transport waiting. Mr Kadar…oh and thank you," said Hetty relieved.

"Don't thank me yet Miss Lange." Mustafa was pleased that he had finally procured the help for his friend. He attached the phone to his pants' belt and took a step outside. Caring for Callen 24/7 had been hard. He was physically and emotionally exhausted. He felt the sun on his face and rejoiced for the way everything was falling into place.

Meanwhile, Callen had heard Mustafa step outside and he had heard everything. Knowing he was alone, he pried opened his feverish eyes. He looked around and his surrounds seemed so alien. Then he tried to remember. His head was pounding and throbbing. His memories were vague. Documents kept flashing in his line of vision. Suddenly he remembered his name Aziz Umar and he remembered attending University. He remembered he was an engineer, he remembered a camp, hostages and armed men…then he was attacked by flashes of light, explosions, gunfire causing shooting pain to assault his head as he groaned in pain. He tried to breathe it away. It subsided slightly. Then he remembered Mustafa's face…his old friend and it calmed his anxious state. But something was not right. There were other faces that he caught glimpses of…faces he couldn't place, faces of strangers. He needed to keep it together because for some reason his simple life seemed so complicated and so foreign.

He tried hard to recall what he had heard from Mustafa…

…_Kadar ISI…_

…_authorities find him…they will kill him…_

…_I can't guarantee he'll be alive when we get there…_

…_a danger to you…_

Terror overwhelmed him. His friend that he'd known all his life was in the ISI and now Mustafa was going to kill him…why? Callen knew one thing and one thing only; he needed to run, he needed to get away. But he just couldn't. Everything hurt and pain was his taunting enemy. The pain scrambled his rational thoughts. He couldn't think straight and so many thoughts were like pieces of a jigsaw. He tried to hold on to what he had rationalized but slowly he started to weaken and those ideas disintegrated, clouds started to darken reality and he drifted off.

Mustafa received the information and looked over at his friend, who hadn't stirred. Callen had 6 hours before he'd be on his way home.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

**At OPS**

The conversation with Mustafa had left them all shell-shocked. They had all thought Callen dead. Now, Mustafa, the man they had been searching for had contacted them and informed them that Callen was alive. ALIVE!

Deeks was the first one to break the silence, "I told you…what did I tell you. I knew he had a plan…it's Callen…he's alive." His face was beaming as he jumped around towards Kensi and hugged her ferociously.

She smiled notwithstanding the dangers and the uncertainties still ahead, and she let herself be carried away with Deeks' enthusiasm. Eric and Nell beamed with joy as they looked around at Hetty, who had sat down breathing deeply and donning a satisfied smile. When Hetty was happy, they all were. Then all eyes went to Sam.

He looked at each team member's face; their relief, their joy, their hope and their excitement. They hadn't given up. That's the moment the big man crumbled. The news slashed at his very being. He turned to his team with a sense of shame and reluctance. "I gave up on Callen…you all didn't. I should've known you'd keep on looking until you found him. You kept the faith. But how is G alive? I saw him die," Sam spoke, his voice just above a whisper.

"Mr. Hanna, you should be well accustomed to your partner's resurrection habits. Mr. Callen managed to help himself as he has done so many times before. We should have realized this before giving up hope. There is still so much that needs to be done before Mr. Callen comes home. We can't delay. Time is of the essence. I'll organize the transport and deal with the diplomatic side of the S&R. Miss Blye and Mr. Deeks, be ready to leave within the hour. A fully stocked medic team and a small group of Paratroopers will accompany you," explained Hetty as her petite frame proceeded to leave the OPS room.

"I want to go," interrupted Sam. Hetty froze. All eyes fell on Hetty. She turned slowly, obviously thinking hard about Sam's request.

"I somehow think Mr. Hanna, it might **not** be a good idea," she stated bluntly, eyes focused on Sam. She had tried to phrase her thoughts carefully, trying to mask her true feelings on the matter. There was no telling Callen's reaction in seeing Sam, his partner and brother, the man who left him behind.

"I know what you're thinking. But I need to do this for G. I need to make it up to him…**I** need to bring him home," said Sam shifting his stance awkwardly from left to right. When had it ever been this uncomfortable in the OPS room with his team? The answer was staring him in the face…the day he left them and the day he left Callen.

It was always a brave, or stupid man who would take on Sam, but Deeks felt he owed it to Callen, "Just explain again, who are you doing this for?" Sam turned to face Deeks. He pulled himself straight and squared his shoulders.

"Yeah, that whole thing you got happening Sam…the whole Rottweiler attack mode you summon, ain't workin' on me anymore. Man, the way I see it, coming with us to bring Callen home is just a way of appeasing your conscience, you know. This isn't about Callen…" finished Deeks having stepped closer to a fuming Sam. Hetty watched stunned and impressed. Deeks had grown a few after working with Callen in Sam's absence, and she was pleased. Kensi was on alert, ready to pounce on the boys if they started their playground rumble. But they would all be disappointed.

Sam took a deep breath, lowered his shoulders and nodded at Deeks, "Since when did you become so insightful?"

"Working beside Callen does that to you or have you forgotten…" smirked Deeks whilst Kensi was shaking her head and mouthing _ stop it Deeks._

"Yeah…I get it. Maybe it is about easing my conscience but it's also about saving Callen…repaying a debt and asking for forgiveness," spoke Sam, his voice breaking with emotion yet it was strong and undisputable. That was enough dealing with Deeks. He turned to his former boss pleadingly, "Hetty?" After all, it was her decision.

"Mr. Deeks? I think Mr. Hanna has answered you concerns. Mr. Hanna you may accompany Miss Blye and Mr. Deeks. I think you will be a very useful resource, however Miss Blye you will be heading the search and rescue task force. Everyone answers to you. Like I said before, wheels up in an hour."

The boys had surrendered. Sam was coming, Kensi was in charge and Deeks didn't want to cause any trouble. He'd do what he was told. This was about bringing Callen home. Kensi looked around quite taken by the faith and responsibility entrusted to her. She felt rather proud. She wouldn't let Callen down…she just couldn't. She stood and turned to Sam and Deeks, "Guys get suited up. Protocol Golden Fleece." Sam and Deeks nodded and left. Then she turned her attention to Eric and Nell.

Nell looked at Kensi, biting the inside of her cheeks and smirking, "Well well…leave it to the females to be called when maturity, organization skills and responsibility are needed."

Eric scoffed, "Yeah right…Hetty just didn't want WWIII and who better to keep the boys in check."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," said Kensi hitting Eric over the head. It only made him laugh.

"Anyway…you guys need to be on the ball with this, more than ever before. Your eyes will need to have ESP…we need heads up before we need heads up. We won't be in Kansas anymore," said Kensi, her demeanor showing a little trepidation.

Nell picked up on it and spoke to Kensi quietly, "You know, Sam being involved is going to be difficult especially when you don't know how Callen will react, but on the other hand he has some local knowledge and he does have more experience than you or Deeks."

"Yeah I know. Look everything will be ok…as long as we get him home."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Although his slumber had been interrupted by nightmares and all sorts of strange imaginings, Callen had slept through the pounding pain. His body had found much needed rest. Mustafa had hovered over Callen, counting the hours and the minutes until they could embark on his journey home. Suddenly the time had arrived for Mustafa to get Callen to eat something and prepare him for the hour's drive. He gently and carefully sat on the edge of the bed, minding Callen's injuries, and started to call him back to consciousness. "Callen. Callen, you need to wake now. Callen"

There was no response.

Mustafa reached over to check his pulse, it was weak but it was steady. He tapped Callen's cheek lightly, "Callen…time to wake, friend."

Callen's heavy eyelids started to flutter. "That's it my friend…wake up now because we have a big journey ahead."

Callen was drawn by Mustafa's voice as he regained consciousness, "Mustafa?" The voice was small, croaky and pained.

"Shhh…you don't need to talk. You are still very ill Callen. I will give you something for the pain and something to ensure fortitude during our travel," said a relieved Mustafa. He pushed himself up to go to the kitchen area when Callen touched his hand. "What is it Callen?"

Callen felt lost and confused. His eyes welled up as he choked on his words.

"I know you're in pain. But let me help."

Callen shook his head and swallowed harshly causing him to gasp for air.

"Hey take it easy. Whatever you need to say to me, it can wait until you are stronger, yes?"

Again Callen shook his head and rolled slightly to his uninjured side. He looked at Mustafa. This time his cheeks were tear-streaked.

"Callen, what's wrong, dear friend?"

Callen stared at Mustafa, trying in vain to dispel his fears by seeking the answers in his friend's visage. He saw kind familiar eyes and Callen had no choice. He took a deep breath, as deep as his battered body would allow and spoke with labored breaths, "Mustafa…I'm Aziz…why do you persist…with Callen? Who is Callen? I'm Aziz Umar."

Mustafa froze; his revelation shattering his crumbling version of happy-ever-after.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks for welcoming me back so kindly and thanks for your feedback**

**Chapter 11**

Mustafa's eyes widened as he stared at Callen. It was an absent stare, as time seemed to stand still. Mustafa's lungs were straining, begging him to release the breath he had been holding but his eyes held their startled horrified gaze until he heard Callen's plea.

"Mus...tafa?" croaked Callen, as he extended his tortured hand toward Mustafa.

The ISI agent jumped as if given a jolt of electricity. This time he looked at Callen then consciously and tenderly touched Callen's forehead. His thoughts were running amuck. However there was one single thought that plagued his confused mind; he needed to keep Callen calm at all cost. There was only one option and it was one he hated…lying to Callen also meant saving his life. So he decided to play along with Callen's delusion. What else was he to do? Mustafa inhaled deeply and he needed to come up with something plausible. He gave Callen a warm reassuring smile, "Sorry my friend…Callen is a term of affection. That's all. Nothing else."

Callen seemed to believe him. He didn't argue but relaxed the tension he was holding in his shoulders as he slumped onto his pillow, his eyes never leaving Mustafa's. Whilst Mustafa had Callen's attention he continued, "Aziz, you are sick and you need medical help that I can't provide. I have made arrangements. But we need to travel. Do you feel up to it?"

Callen's eyes would not stay open as he floated through the undulating waves of consciousness. The memory of Mustafa's phone conversation was fragmenting and he still held on tightly to the idea that he'd been betrayed. He wasn't fearful anymore; he just accepted that this was the end. He couldn't run because his body was just too broken. So he gave into the inevitable. He started to drift when he felt Mustafa gently shake him, "Aziz? Did you hear me?

Callen's struggled to stay awake, "Yes…I trust you to do the right thing Mustafa. My life….is…in…your…hands." His eyes closed and Callen fell into unconsciousness.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Hours later**

The air transport touched down on a makeshift airstrip an hour or so outside Wana. The agents exchanged looks of anticipation and fear. Sam had been silent the entire trip, and much to Kensi's surprise, so had Deeks. Although, the annoyingly fleeting glances between the two males didn't go unnoticed by Kensi. Regardless of the silent tug-o-war, Kensi had welcomed the peace and quiet for she knew that things were going to change very soon and very quickly.

"So we're here?" said Deeks unclipping his harness and looking out the window. "Here is basically in the middle of nowhere. And there is sand and dirt and more sand and more dirt and I forgot my sunscreen…"

"Enough," blasted Sam, then lowering his voice and taming his anxiety, "Enough Deeks…enough."

Deeks froze at the way Sam had snapped at him. The big man was usually so restrained and so in control. He just didn't snap. But the memories of his capture, the memories of the past and now, having to face his partner, the brother he left behind for dead, was more than any man could handle. It dawned on Deeks that Sam was breaking. There were to be no more smart-arse remarks and there would be no more back chatting. They wouldn't help. This **was** serious and Deeks got that.

Kensi looked intensely at both men. She took a moment to connect with Sam and Deeks, "Are we good? Are you both able to see this through or does someone need to stay in the car?" asked Kensi, her tone direct, menacing and laden with authority. Deeks nodded followed by Sam. "We're good. Now we wait…hopefully not for long."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It hadn't been an easy task getting Callen into the back of the Landcruiser but Mustafa had managed being extremely careful of Callen's wounds. He had constructed a bed with blankets on which Callen now lay unconscious. Mustafa had water, the satellite phone and a tank full of fuel. He had entered the coordinates into his GPS. The meeting place was in the middle of nowhere. He wasn't familiar with the place but he knew the area; desolate and barren. He started the car, the engine roared to life and he looked over his shoulder to reassure himself that he was in fact doing the right thing. He was. Callen needed help.

The road was rough, bumpy and dusty. It was scattered with potholes created by the fighting that had been raging the countryside for centuries. He tried his best to avoid them, but most of the times it was only a matter of avoiding the larger ones. His rear view mirror was angled so he could keep his eyes on Callen. He looked up and saw him stirring. That single moment Mustafa took his eyes off the road, the car hit a pothole, sending a sudden reminder to keep his eyes on the road. The impact caused Callen to wake and groan in agony. Mustafa looked at Callen again and he saw his friend struggling with his pain, "Little further Aziz…little further." Callen ignored his friend's plea as the pain was encompassing and the fever raging. Eyes back on the road praying and hoping it wasn't much further. Before the GPS registered the destination, Mustafa saw the plane and he was relieved.

He maneuvered the car closer to the plane and saw three people disembark. They stood alert. Turning off the car he got out leaving the door open and stood next to the bonnet unsure how to proceed. The raven haired beauty walked towards him cautiously as the two men stood guard. She was as intimidating as she was beautiful. They met half way. She looked him over apprehensively as he spoke, "I am Mustafa Kadar."

Kensi was taken back by this former ISI agent. He was nothing at all like she had imagined; he was so unassuming and so average. "Yes Mr. Kadar. I'm Special Agent Kensi Blye and these are my associates. Where is Callen?"

A look of regret and sadness swept over Mustafa's face. Kensi saw the change and became alarmed. "Mr. Kadar, is he…?" she stopped afraid to utter the word _dead._

"No, no, no," quickly corrected Mustafa, seeing her distressed state. "Are your associates friends of Callen?"

"Yes…" answered Kensi, wondering where the questioning was going.

"Call them over…please." Kensi motioned to Deeks and Sam. "Mr. Kadar, this is Agent Deeks and Special Agent Hanna…colleagues and friends." Both men nodded and Mustafa greeted them.

"What's the hold up? Where's G?" asked Sam, anxiously looking over to the car.

"Before you speak to Callen you must know something, something important. He does not remember himself as G. Callen. He thinks he is…Aziz Umar. He believes everything that was in the alias dossier to the last detail. Do you understand what that means?" explained Mustafa.

"Callen thinks he's one of them. He'll think you're betraying him by handing him over to us…western dogs," said Sam cringing at the ironic turn of events.

"Yes," said Mustafa apologetically, "I tried all I could," looking back at his ailing friend. "I don't know if it's a symptom of the fever or there is head trauma or something else entirely…I tried my best."

Kensi saw the pain and despair in Mustafa's face. She moved closer to him and gently touched his arm, drawing his attention, "Mustafa, you have nothing to be sorry for. If it hadn't been for you, Callen would have died. We would have lost him. You saved him and we owe you, whatever the outcome."

Mustafa nodded, "I am humbled by your words Agent Blye. I have brought him so far and now I hand him over to you. Take care of him. He is a good, good man…a brother to me. Come." He led them over to the rear of the 4WD and opened the doors.

Sam stood frozen and distant at the sight of his friend; so broken, so hurt. Deeks instinctively jumped into the back and his fingers went straight to the carotid artery, then to his forehead. His face frowned as he turned to Kensi, "He's alive."

"Ok, ok…Sam call the medics," cried out Kensi as she hopped in next to Deeks who had already snaked his arms under Callen's armpits. Callen groaned.

"Be careful with his back. There are many wounds," hollered an anxious Mustafa resisting the urge to help.

"Ok…I got it. Kensi where are the medics?" asked Deeks straining under Callen's inert weight. "He's heavier than he looks"

"It's the donuts," she dared to smile remembering fondly Callen's obsession for donuts, bacon and tootsie pops. Looking back she didn't see the medics. Then she looked over to Sam again and yelled, "Sam…Special Agent Hanna, snap out of it and call the medics. Deal with your crap later. SAM!"

Suddenly Sam awoke from his trance and shook the nasty morbid thoughts from his head, "Yeah…sorry."

It all happened in a blur, faster than he had imagined. Callen was in the plane and the medics buzzing around him. He had not woken and he had not stirred; something that troubled those around him. Sam and Deeks had settled themselves into the plane after thanking and fare welling Mustafa. Kensi however lingered a moment whilst the engines roared to life.

"Thank you Mustafa…is there any way we can notify you of Callen's status?" she asked sympathetically.

"I still have the phone. That will be the best way. Take care of him and Agent Blye, tell him I didn't betray him," he answered. Kensi could see the affection this man had for Callen and she'd do everything in her power to keep her promise.

She shook his hand, "I will. I promise."

Xxxxxxxx

The ascent was quick and once altitude had been reached, everyone unbuckled themselves and started to move around in the cargo hold. The medics reprised their care of Callen, when one spoke up, "Agent Blye, did your man say anything else about Agent Callen's injuries?"

"Dr. Lowe isn't it?" asked Kensi. The medic nodded. "No…why?"

"We're having difficulty stabilizing him. Is anything from his medical history that is missing from his records?" asked the medic drawing more blood from Callen.

Kensi turned to Sam. After all no one knew him better. "Sam?"

"No not that I can think of. G never shared things like that," replied Sam moving closer to his partner. _What's going on with you G? _thought Sam.

"Hey Kens, before he left, Callen was acting a bit off," yelled out Deeks fiddling with the backpacks.

The medic huffed, "That's really helpful."

Ignoring the sarcastic reply, Sam moved closer to Callen's prone figure. They had placed him face down with his back and legs exposed. Sam's eyes started to scan the damage. It was a mess. He had caused this. Sam left Callen behind as he was shot, as Callen was propelled forward from the explosion and as Callen took hit after hit from the flying and unforgiving shrapnel. He pulled up a stool and sat opposite Callen's face. All he could do was stare as his partner struggled to stay alive. "Hey G…you're going home man. I am sorry and I am going to do everything in power to fix this, to fix us G," whispered Sam holding onto Callen's arm.

Callen's arm twitched.

Sam gripped it tighter, "Callen! G! Wake up man."

Hearing Sam call Callen by his name, Kensi turned around, "Sam…remember what Mustafa said…it's Aziz Umar…only Aziz. We can't risk anything else going wrong."

Callen drifted on the boundaries of consciousness. He heard voices and noises but one particular made him fight through the pain for consciousness…Callen. _Mustafa using that word again, _he thought. He fought harder until he found the strength to pry open his eyes. Sam looked up at the medic, "He's coming to." They all gathered.

"Hey Aziz…you're safe. We're taking you to the hospital," smiled Kensi, trying to keep her heart from bursting out of her chest.

But Callen's eyes scanned them carefully without recognition. Then stopped at Sam; ignoring the medics, ignoring Kensi and ignoring Deeks, Callen's accusing eyes focused on Sam. He became agitated and his heart rate increased. As he struggled to free himself and distance himself from Sam, he forced his voice to speak in pashto, "western…scum…flith".

The medic didn't waste time and injected something into Callen's IV. Slowly they noticed Callen relax and his eyes close not before noticing a tear fall onto the pillow. Kensi looked at her fellow agents, "What was that?"

"He reacted to me Kensi. He blames me," said a sullen Sam.

A startled Deeks put his hand on Sam's shoulder, "No man, it was more than that. Anybody speak the language that sprouted from his mouth?" Deeks asked rhetorically, not really expecting an answer.

When the younger medic answered, "I'm a bit rusty but it was Pashto…something on the lines of traitor, scum and filth." That left the agents agog.

"Ok and the prize goes to the Doc. But why would he say that?" asked Deeks.

Sam gently removed himself from Callen's side and said moving away, "He remembers me from the compound…not as Sam but as an American soldier…the enemy."

"Crap!" uttered Deeks totally caught unawares.

Kensi turned to Dr. Lowe, "What happened?"

Dr. Lowe put the syringe in the disposal bin and checked Callen's stats again. Satisfied they were returning to the inconsistent normal, he turned to the agents, "Could be a variety of things…a head injury, PTSD, Dissociative Personality Disorder, Identitiy Displacement Disorder…could be anything unless. I need thr right equipment, to run the appropriate tests so I can make a diagnosis. I need for him to remain calm and I need him to rest, agents. I suggest we keep Agent Hanna far from Aziz and we play in his world. I'll keep Dr. Kadem close in case he regains consciousness…waking to his mother tongue will help."

The stunned look on their faces said it all. Maybe Callen was lost to them forever…

xxxxxxxxxx


	12. Chapter 12

Welcome to all the new followers…

A few changes to the beginning. Thanks GUEST for pointing them out to me

NB: (conversations between Hetty and Callen are in Pashto)

**Chapter 12**

If Callen had been awake he wouldn't have missed all the frenetic activity that hovered around his arrival; he wouldn't have missed the worried and anxious faces of his 'family'; he wouldn't have missed the constant prodding and poking and the continuous leeching of his blood; he wouldn't have missed the psycho medical babble talk about the psychological trauma Dr Lowe thought he had sustained.

But he was someplace else.

Where he was, he had no idea. But it was quiet and peaceful; it was what he imagined heaven to be. He was happy and content. He could remain in this state forever.

Forever it did seem for Hetty and the others. Days passed and Callen seemed to pull further and further away from them. They continued with their lives but took it in shifts to sit with their fallen friend; all afraid he'd wake to an empty room…all alone. Hetty just couldn't have that.

On the fifth day an exhausted Hetty entered Callen's room after closing an undercover operation involving the Colombians. She didn't look at Callen. She knew what to expect. The grief was just insufferable. She needed her medicinal tea before she could face him. So she ceremoniously hung up her bag and coat on the door hook then placed her thermos on the cupboard near the window, gently unscrewing the lid, she poured herself a cup. Careful not to spill the steaming contents, she eased her weary body onto the chair. Gripping the cup between her small weathered hands she lifted her gaze to the wafting steam, when in the background she saw something next to the miraculous; two beads of cerulean staring straight at her.

The shock caused the cup to tilt to one side and then fall to the floor as she rushed over to Callen.

Hetty didn't know what to say as she looked lovingly at her fallen son. The bruises and abrasions had almost disappeared, but his face was drawn and far, far too emaciated.

Callen looked straight at her. His eyes lacked the spirit and fire they usually had but reflected a certain level of distrust and determination. Callen had woken. She called for the doctor. Callen continued to follow her every move. "It's not polite to stare?" she joked. Callen remained emotionless but she swore she noticed a glint in his eyes as she buzzed for his doctor.

Xxxxxx

Callen had been assigned one doctor and that was a Dr. Taylor, a specialist in Trauma Medicine and a friend of Hetty's. It didn't take long for Dr. Taylor and his assisting nurse to arrive. They entered the room and the first thing they saw was Callen finally awake. It brought a smile to his face, then he turned to Hetty concerned, "Hetty, you look tired. He's awake now. You should rest now."

"I will. Only after you tell me he is stable and only after I speak to him," responded Hetty, glancing from Dr. Taylor to Callen.

He nodded defeated in his attempt, then turned his attention to Callen whose eyes never left Hetty. "Aziz, my name is Dr. Taylor. Do you understand me?"

Callen's eyes sleepily focused on the doctor and he nodded. "Good. I'm glad because I don't speak Pashto," he said smiling at his own attempt at humour. "Now I am going to check your vitals. Please be patient with me," explained the doctor smiling kindly. Callen didn't react.

Dr. Taylor ran through all the necessary motions then looking at Callen, he explained. "Young man, everything looks fine. You are healing well. You need to rest though. We'll start you on solids and put some meat on those bones." Then he turned to his assistant, "Jess, would you change the dressings on his back and adjust the medication accordingly while I speak to Hetty outside."

Callen watched them leave and wondered what they weren't telling him.

**Outside**

"How is our boy really, Tom?" asked a weary Hetty.

"Hetty, the physical trauma Callen sustained in Pakistan is improving. He will still be sore for several more days and the infection has all but gone. The identity issue is purely psychological and I'll be calling in a friend of mine who is very experienced in these sorts of cases if it persists. I am quite confident you'll get Callen back and soon. However, the identity issue is really the least of our problems."

"What do you mean?" asked Hetty, thinking that **was** the only problem.

"Dr. Lowe was confused by some of the results he had collated on the plane. We continued his line of testing. The lab work came in this morning and Hetty it is not good." said a disconcerted doctor.

"Tom? What? What is it?" asked Hetty, truly perplexed. "Mr. Callen has always been a picture of health, always passing his medicals with flying colours."

"When was he due for the next one?" asked Tom.

"In the next couple of months," she paused and collected herself then continued, "Tom, what is wrong with Callen?" Hetty anxious now of Tom's news.

"Callen is sick Hetty. Here sit down," he gestured her towards the chair.

"I will do no such thing. Now spit it out," Hetty raised her voice.

"Callen has Chronic Lymphocytic Leukaemia," explained Tom.

Hetty froze and asked in total shock and disbelief, "Would you mind repeating that again?"

"You heard me correctly the first time Hetty. Now please sit down and I'll explain," said Tom appeasingly.

She did. She had to or else she was certain she'd end up on the floor. She pushed back the helplessness she felt. This was time for strength. Tom sat next to her and placed a caring hand on her knee, "You are his next of kin and you need to know. CLL usually gets worse more slowly than acute leukaemia and it is not always treated right away. We've detected it in its early stages. I've consulted with a few of my oncology colleagues and they believe the best possible treatment in Callen's case will be watchful waiting and quite possible targeted therapy with a monoclonal antibody if his condition deteriorates. Hetty we need to decide how and when to tell him whether it be Aziz or Callen. It must be done."

"He will not be happy, no matter who he is. He will be angry. Callen does not cope with pity and fragility. But I agree he needs to be told…how this will affect his work…I don't know," mused Hetty sadly. "He is one of the great ones, Tom."

"They always fall the hardest. But there is no reason he cannot return to work in the future if the CLL is kept under watchful scrutiny. If the cases aren't overly taxing he could resume his work," argued a hopeful Tom.

"Will he die Tom?" she asked like little vulnerable girl than the fearsome ninja she was.

"It will eventually catch up with him Hetty. I can't make promises. I can only tell you the now and the near future. He will not die of CLL now nor in the foreseeable future unless his health takes a drastic, and I mean DRASTIC turn. Would you like me with you when you tell him?" he asked sympathetically.

Hetty took in a cleansing breath and shook her head of the cobwebs of the past, "No. It's fine. I will do it in my good time and I will do it before he is discharged."

Tom nodded, "Ok…I'll check in with you later then." He stood, gave Hetty a kiss on the forehead and left.

"Oh and Tom…this is strictly confidential." It was not a request. It was an order. Tom nodded and left.

Hetty knew she had to go back and talk to Callen. She would postpone the talk until she had built a rapport with Callen's new identity. She stood, brushed herself down and walked towards his room. When she walked in she noticed her boy had fallen victim to the power of sleep. She found the chair again, checked her tea…it was cold. Bugger! So she just sat listening to the constant rhythm of the medical machines and sleep claimed her as well.

A few hours later, her mind started to rouse and she felt that penetrating glare. Callen was awake. Again those sapphire orbs were staring at her. She smiled pushing back her emotions she croaked, "Hello."

Callen became puzzled at the use of his language by Hetty. His brow furrowed. He shifted uncomfortably in his bed causing him to wince. "Now you must take it easy Aziz. You have gone through a great ordeal. I am Hetty, a friend of Mustafa," she said quietly. "He asked me to help you and keep an eye on you."

Callen looked around suspiciously, "Where am I?" His tone was cold and devoid of any emotion. She knew this Callen and she was up for the challenge.

"You're in a hospital recovering from your wounds," said Hetty trying to avoid the whole 'America' thing yet and marveling at how Pashto flowed off Callen's tongue.

"Where am I?" Callen's tone hard and direct, obviously annoyed at Hetty's avoidance.

"In the United States." She moved slightly weary of Callen's reaction.

"Am I a prisoner?" asked Callen hoarsely, suddenly noticing the arid state of his throat.

"No, you are not," Hetty responded truthfully, "however you are a person of interest."

"Will you stop me from leaving?" asked Callen testing the waters.

"No but we need to ask you some questions when you are able. There is no rush. You need rest, Aziz," she said calmly.

"So I am a prisoner," reiterated Callen.

Her eyes became downcast, as Hetty couldn't respond to his question. All she really wanted to do was congratulate her boy on a job well done. She wanted to go back to the Ops Centre and announce that Callen would be shortly on his feet and rejoining them at NCIS. She wanted this whole damn debacle to be over. Her team had sacrificed enough…Callen had sacrificed enough.

"Aziz what do you remember?" asked Hetty hoping to get her operative to reveal the true state of his mind.

"I will not betray my people," said Callen coldly.

"That is not what I'm asking you Aziz…I want to help you. You are an educated man and please reason like one. We need to work together in order for you to be discharged. What do you remember?" asked Hetty gripping his arm.

Callen watched the old woman intensely. She was never comfortable with Callen's probing stares but she held her own.

"You know me, don't you?" asked Callen squinting his eyes with curiosity.

"Yes, I do…but it is complicated. There is a great deal taking place here Aziz than you know…or rather, than you are able to understand. We need to take this slowly. I want you to trust me," pleaded Hetty.

"Trust American dogs...infidels," he scoffed. Hetty could not believe how different this man was to her agent. Could his trauma have been that great?

"No…trust **me**. Trust that Mustafa would ask me to help you."

Callen knew it was a lost cause. He was injured, in a strange country…alone. Maybe this woman would betray him, or maybe she wouldn't. He'd have to take the risk.

Callen placed his hands on the bed and pushed himself up, grunting with exertion. Hetty watched him with terrifying helplessness. He took a deep breath, "I remember joining my fellow countrymen in the fight for freedom…Mustafa helped me with the introductions. I remember helping oversee the maintenance of their vehicles. I remember the sense of belonging and brotherhood. I remember feeding the American soldiers−" Callen stopped suddenly as a sharp pained lanced through his head. His hands shot to his temples. The pain was excruciating, "AAArrrrrgh." He pulled his knees up and tried to steady his head against them.

Hetty's hands went to his back and started to rub with compassion but to no avail. She called for the nurse. By now Callen was twisting and bucking with pain. She came in and went straight for the IV. Without looking at Hetty she asked, "How long has he been like this?"

"Seconds," answered Hetty.

"Help me keep him steady. This should start working very quickly." She administered the narcotic and within seconds, Callen had slowly relaxed. His hands flopped by his sides and his glazed eyes found Hetty's again.

"What happened?" asked the nurse.

"He was recalling memories and he suddenly grasped his head in pain," explained a startled Hetty.

"It's common with trauma victims. The scans show no lesions nor damage. The pain is usually associated with his subconscious not wanting to remember, or a conflict of the real and the reality he has fabricated. Be patient with him and allow him to tell you when he's ready," the nurse kindly said. "I'll be at the nurse's station if you need me."

Again they were left alone. Hetty looked at Callen, at the ailing boy she had helped so many years ago and her heart broke. She had tried so hard to look out for him but life had a way of interfering with his happiness and that thought ripped her insides apart.

"Hetty?" The voice brought her back from her thoughts…his voice, Callen's voice.

"Ah Aziz, do you feel better?" asked Hetty approaching the man.

"My head feels like it's on fire," he croaked looking at her. Suddenly she saw something different about him; a certain tenderness in his eyes.

"I should let you rest and I should return to work. You've had a big day," said Hetty as she turned to grab her bag and coat.

That quiet voice spoke again, "No…please stay if you can…I want to remember."

She smiled at his impatience and rashness; at least that hadn't changed. "But you are tired and in pain, Aziz," she said smiling.

"Please…" he pleaded.

"Fine…you were talking about the American soldiers," reminded Hetty tentatively.

He didn't have the energy to move so he let his body sink into the pillow, "I have memories of helping them by untying their binds but that doesn't make sense. They are my enemies. I remember talking with Raza and feeling hatred, then I remember setting explosives, talking to the black soldier, watching them escape…watching them leave me behind. Then came the searing pain in the back. I was shot and he just drove away…he left me behind, behind to die…we were…we were." He couldn't put voice to his thoughts anymore. Everything seemed so confused and jumbled. The person he was and that person's belief did not correspond to the way he felt when he relived the memories that were flooding his mind.

The broken pleading eyes of a child looked up to her glistening with hurt and abandon, "Who am I?"

_Oh dear child_she thought. He had asked her that question so many times as her Callen, and even then she couldn't give him an answer. She quickly moved closer holding his hand with her left she embraced him with her right. She pulled him in tight. "You need to discover that by yourself Aziz but I will be here every step of the way." She felt his body tremble with sobs of a desperate soul, then she did the only thing she knew would calm him. She sang him a song:

Bayu-bayushki-bayu,  
Nye lozhisya na krayu,  
Pridyot serenkiy volchok  
I ukhvatit za bochok.  
On ukhvatit za bochok  
I potashchit vo lesok,  
Por rakitovyi kustok.

He looked at her strangely, "Russian?"

"Yes," she smiled.

"I understand the lyrics," he said surprised.

"Of course you do. Sleep child."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks everyone for dropping in a line…**

**Chapter 13**

**Back at OPS the Following Day**

"How was he when you left Hetty?" asked a concerned Sam, flanked by Deeks and Kensi.

"Oh well, Tom says he is doing very well and just needs time to allow his body to heal," explained Hetty hiding her awkwardness.

"You wouldn't keep anything from us, would you Hetty?" asked Kensi, her instincts telling her something was amiss. "You know we love Callen like a brother. You would tell us if anything was wrong?"

"Of course dear…physically he is mending and at a fast rate at that. The psychological issue is a challenge. We need tolerance and above all he needs patience which you all would agree with me, is quite a trial for Mr. Callen," she finished with a chuckle.

"Can we visit him?" asked Deeks already knowing the answer.

"No Mr. Deeks. That's not a good idea. He is so confused about what happened in Wana and I feel he is starting to trust me. I need his trust to be able to help him through this. He needs to remember who he really is. That is paramount. Now we've had our pow-wow or chinwag as you wish, it's time to get back to work. Up to the Ops centre Eric has an assignment and you all need debriefing." Hetty's phone rang and Sam stood in his place.

"_Miss Lange. It's Lt Commander Westerman. How are you_?" the voice direct and brief on the other end.

Hetty's eyes widened, "Oh, what a surprise Commander. How are your boys? All well I hope." Sam hadn't moved but his face tightened with concern.

"_Yes thank you…they are doing well, some are still undergoing therapy for PTSD. The reason for my call. I heard about Special Agent Callen's return. That is exceptional news. How is he?" _asked Westerman, showing more emotion than he should.

"Your channels of information are vast indeed. Agent Callen is back with us and doing remarkably well considering what he had to endure. But I must say your concern is appreciated," finished Hetty.

"_There is another reason for the call."_

"Ah pray tell."

"_Speaking with the boys… on behalf of Special Agent Callen we've put forward a nomination for the Medal of Honour. His actions and disregard for his own safety notwithstanding our less than commendable attitude need to be acknowledged. I hope you and your team including Special Agent Hanna will support it, Miss Lange," _explained Westerman.

It caught Hetty by surprise. But yes, he did deserve it. "That is very honourable of you and your men Lt Commander Westerman. You will have our support of course and maybe when this is all over, we can share a libation over some cold bruskies," said Hetty smiling.

"_Thankyou and yes, that sounds like an excellent plan ma'am. Goodbye Miss Lange," _finished Westerman.

"Goodbye Lieutenant." She flipped her phone shut and felt so proud for Callen and so smug. This was good.

Sam hadn't left her side and was mesmerized by the old woman's face, "A medal huh? G deserves it. He won't want it…but he deserves it."

"Yes, yes he does Mr. Hanna but it will not replace the hurt. That will need to be mended with love and friendship not shiny metal," she said accenting the double entente.

"I know Hetty…I know. As soon as I can, I will make it up to G. I swear it," he said putting his hand on his heart.

"Good to hear Mr. Hanna, good to hear. Now up to Ops and be with your team."

xxxxxxxxxxx

Sam was still on the outer but the team's resentment was slowly wearing away and he found that they allowed him in more and more, they allowed him to be part of the family again. For that small mercy, Sam was grateful.

"Ok guys…this case is sketchy. There are whispers about a terrorist attack on a possible navy base. A person of interest arrived in the States two days ago. He goes by the name of Yuri Slakov," said Eric.

Nell punched a few keys and he face flashed up on the screen, "But as you can see from these various documents, Slakov is one of many aliases. This guy is good. No traces, no prints. There's not much out there on this guy. But we've only started digging. Give us a few more hours and we'll have more."

Deeks moved forward getting a closer look at the documents, "So why the connection between an eastern European dude and a terrorist attack? Strange bedfellows don't you think?"

"Yeah we thought so too. So we ran his face through the worldwide agency's database and there was a recent hit from our friends in the ISI. It shows Slakov in Karachi around the time, you and Callen were there Sam, in Pakistan. Do you remember seeing him at the compound?" asked Eric cautiously.

"No…Not many visitors came to the compound and if they did, we weren't invited to the party. We didn't see much. But I would remember a face like his?" said Sam concentrating on the display screens; his mind churning and vetting possible scenarios.

"Do you think Callen may have seen him?" Kensi asked Sam, quietly afraid of everyone's reaction.

Sam stopped and looked at Kensi, "Yeah…if he was there G would've spotted him. He was outside fixing those tanks and Humvees. He would've seen people coming and going. But more than that Raza was all over G…thought he was the best thing that had happened to his 'Warroirs of the Downtrodden'; an educated man that wanted to be part of his cause."

"Educated men are usually the most fanatical. They somehow use reason to justify their argument…most dangerous," interrupted Hetty smiling at her team.

"So Hetty do you think you could show Callen Slakov's photo or you don't' think he's up to it?" asked Deeks feeling uneasy about the possible connection.

She pondered quietly for a minute as the team held their breath, "We could try and if that falls through Mr. Beale and Miss Jones, is there anything else we have to go on?"

"Well there is a small crumb we could follow?" said Nell tentatively lifting her left eyebrow.

"And that would be…?" Hetty posed.

"Slakov is eastern European and who do we know that has a pulse on all things Babushka?" queried Nell, looking at the team smugly.

"Arkady Kolchek…man this is getting better by the minute," exclaimed Sam folding his arms in disbelief.

"Yes, that is a small crumb but still a crumb. Mr. Hanna go and have a chat with Arkady and see if he knows anything, or rather if he is willing to share," said Hetty.

Then she saw Sam's head tilt side to side whilst pursing his lips, "He and I, we don't really get along…basically he hates me."

"Really I can't see why?" mumbled Deeks earning himself a glare from Kensi and Hetty.

"Mr. Hanna this is not a popularity contest. It doesn't matter whether he likes you or not. You know each other because of Mr. Callen. Take Miss Blye. The female presence might loosen his chauvinistic tongue. Mr. Beale and Miss Jones, find Slakov and his whereabouts. Mr. Deeks with me. Move out people," demanded the petite woman.

Hetty walked out of the Ops centre, down the stairs and to her desk. Deeks followed like a naughty puppy. She took down her bag, placed it carefully over her shoulder and took out the keys to the Jag. Deeks stood quietly and watched her walk out of the building. _What should I do? Follow her? _he thought. Then Hetty stopped. She so enjoyed playing with Mr. Deeks. "Well we haven't got all day. Are you planning on joining me Mr. Deeks tsk tsk now."

The ride in the Jag was frightening. Deeks held on for his life as Hetty kept the revs up and the gears short around the corners and through the red lights. They arrived…safely. Deeks was shocked and surprised. Hetty was non-plussed but Deeks' emotional state was reflected by the windswept look of his hair...more frazzled than usual. His legs trembled as they found ground, "Mr. Deeks you look rather green around the gills. Fortunately we have arrived at the hospital, if you're feeling unwell." asked Hetty, locking the Jag.

Taking a deep breath, Deeks answered, "No I am good. So we're here to see Callen?"

"No I'm here to see Mr. Callen, you on the other hand Mr. Deeks will do what you do best…liaise with the hospital staff and see whether Mr. Callen has had any visitors," said Hetty as they entered the hospital.

"That includes the nurses right?" asked Deeks, not really expecting an answer.

"Oh I can see I chose the right person for this job." The sarcasm wasn't lost on Deeks who flashed a wide grin.

They arrived at Callen's door. "Well this is my stop Mr. Deeks. Please be discreet," said Hetty.

"Of course, discreet is my middle name," said Deeks and left Hetty to see Callen.

Hetty knocked and walked in finding the room surprisingly full of light. Callen was asleep propped up on several pillows looking much better than when she left him yesterday. She placed her things down and turned to see Callen stirring from his slumber. He blinked his eyes trying to focus when he heard her familiar voice, "Well hello Aziz. You are looking much better. How do you feel?"

"You came back?" he croaked, his voice still sore from disuse.

"Of course my dear boy. I meant what I said yesterday. I am here to help you," she said smiling as she moved over to him touching his arm gently.

"I want to believe you but…"

"You don't trust easily. Yes, yes I know. There aren't many people you do trust. Did you remember anymore since yesterday?"

"I tried to remember my university days, my childhood anything before I reunited with Mustafa and it is all blank…like I didn't exist. Then I kept humming that song you sang in my head all morning. When did I learn Russian?"

He looked at her, she smiled and Callen continued. "I kept hearing a name. Mustafa kept calling me CALLEN. He said it was a nickname or something. I have such a strong connection to it. Then I had flashes of a blond girl lying in a pool of blood…I remember getting shot near a beach and I remember a man telling me to hang on…IN ENGLISH. The shots kept coming and coming," Callen's voice suddenly raised a notch quivering with emotion. Her hand suddenly touched his in comfort.

" I see faces of strangers that are familiar, that I have feelings for. Then there are places I know I've never been to, horrible places, places of death and torture…what's wrong with me Hetty. Why are my thoughts so confused?" he pleaded rubbing his head.

She grabbed his hands, "I can tell you who you are and why you think you are Aziz Umar. But I am afraid you are not ready to hear the truth," she said quietly.

"The truth…I don't know what's real anymore. You need me to trust you. I will. This needs to stop …I just want to remember," Callen surrendered.

"Why do you think you are Aziz Umar?" asked Hetty encouragingly.

Callen looked at her strangely. He opened his mouth to answer but he blinked silently. "Do you know?" she prompted.

"No…I saw it on a paper with my other details," he stuttered.

"Like a dossier." He nodded affirmatively.

"Think hard about the name…Callen. Does it bring forward any images, memories?"

Callen thought hard. Hetty could see the concentration lines forming around his eyes and forehead, "A duffle bag with G and Callen, a file behind a gate or a fence." He looked up at her, "An explosion…the black man again…the name Amy…Help me Hetty please…help me piece together all these thoughts." He was crying in desperation for help and who was she to deny him anymore. She got up and poured him a glass of water.

"Here drink this. I will tell you everything you want to know within my power. We will speak English because my Pashto is very rusty," said Hetty lightly.

"I don't speak English," coldly and rather detached. She was hoping she wasn't pushing him too hard.

"You understand it and you speak it, as you understand and speak French, Polish, German, Russian and many other languages, non e` vero Signore Callen?" she switched to Italian.

"Si`, hai ragione," he stopped amazed at his answer. He looked at her incredulous and continued, "Yes you're right…Ja, du hast Recht…Hai anata wa tadashī…." He finished still looking at her. She was amazed to see a slight upward tilt of his lips.

"Are you pleased with yourself and is that a smile?" she asked in English grinning herself.

"Maybe. If you're right about this, maybe you're right about everything else," responded Callen in English.

"You are a very practical pragmatic man. The only way to persuade you is to provide you with proof." Hetty saw Callen yawn as he fought against the taxing weariness. "It seems I have overstayed my welcome. You are tired and I need to get back to work." She attempted to leave when his hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

"Don't. I want to know more. You said you'd tell me more," he demanded.

"No. We have made some wonderful progress today. You need your rest and I need to get back to work." She patted his hand and placed it on the bed gently.

"You will come tomorrow?" he asked, hoping the answer to be affirmative.

"Yes I will." She grabbed her handbag and found the reason for her visit. "Oh." She stopped abruptly taking out the photo. "Aziz, I forgot I have something to show you. I need your help."

"My help?"

She held out the photo. Callen's hand gently grasped it and looked at it with curiosity. "I know this man."

"Who is he?" asked Hetty hoping for more information than Eric and Nell and gathered.

"I saw him talking to Raza at the compound. He seemed to take orders from him. Raza ordered him to kill two of his lieutenants. Then I saw him once more at the compound accompany a shipment of weapons," finished Callen looking at Hetty; his face showing concern and apprehension.

"Do you know his name?" asked Hetty, hoping against hope.

Callen ignored her question and seemed to be lost in a memory far far away. Hetty became very curious and concerned. "When I saw him the first time I thought he looked familiar, someone I had seen during a covert mission in the Ukraine several years ago overseeing the smuggling of arms for a man or a group called Koba. But now I am certain. Raza called him Misha." Suddenly he was back to the present. "What's going on?" asked Callen suddenly feeling the intrinsic need to join the investigation.

"We will talk tomorrow. Thank you…try and remember your time in the Ukraine and dwell on how easy that memory was." She nodded her head smiling and walked out leaving a more confused Callen. His eyes followed her. He was tired…so tired all the time but his nature was driving him to know more. This was in his blood. He could feel it, something wasn't right. He wasn't Aziz a mechanical engineer. Of that he was certain now. But the mystery still remained. Who was he? The name Callen. It felt right, it felt familiar, it felt comfortable. Cradled in that thought Callen drifted off to sleep.

Hetty was pleased very pleased at the progress Callen was making. He was extraordinary. His instincts for survival and his need to know were remarkable. He was on his way home. Deeks was waiting for her outside and was shocked to see a beaming Hetty. "Wow I take it your visit with Callen went well," said Deeks standing on his tip toes trying to get a glimpse of Callen through the door window. "He's good isn't he?"

"Mr. Deeks, Mr. Callen is improving better than I would've hoped," said Hetty. "How did your own mission go?"

"Well Trinny from Springvale Missouri, tall, red-head puzzling sense of humour said Callen had a quiet night and no visitors; Marsha from Little Rock, Aquarius, likes long walks on the beach and tequila said the same, quiet night and no visitors however Mark, short dumpy and a Browncoat remembers seeing a tall stocky man with white hair walking down the corridor from Callen's room in the early hours of the morning. He couldn't be certain if he was here for Callen. But maybe Eric could scan the surveillance cameras?" said Deeks folding a piece of paper. Hetty gave him a reproaching look, "Oh…Marsha is new to town so I thought I'd do my civic duty." He looked abashed.

"Hmmmm. We will get Eric on that promptly. A good job Mr. Deeks. Now let's go." Deeks wanted to ask what had happened with Callen but Hetty closed the conversation. He'd wait. She was in a good mood so things may have gone better than expected.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"Boris answer the door…BORIS!" But Boris was nowhere to be found. "Always me. Why do I bother having help?" Arkady grumbled as he trudged down the hallway from his study to the front door opening it he stood like a gaping fish, "Oh like my day could not get worse."

"Hello to you too Arkady. We gonna stand here all day or are you gonna let us in. We've got a few questions," forced an annoyed Sam.

"Ok, ok…come in only because you are a friend of Callen." His eyes find Kensi, "Oh the beauty and the beast. Agent Blye yes? You are more beautiful than last time I saw you," he said, dripping with sleazy slime.

"That's right, I had a gun to your head," she said smiling.

"Oh there's no need for ill feelings. What do you want Agent Hanna. I am a very busy man," said Arkady not inviting the agents in but keeping them in the atrium.

Sam stoped and looked around. Kensi did the same. Arkady looked offended. "What? My décor does not suit your sensibilities? Not ghetto enough for you," he flashed a sickly smile.

Sam stared hard as his veins bulged in his neck. Kensi looked from Arkady to Sam, ready to spring between these two bulls. But Sam kept his cool. Nothing could jeopardise this investigation. He took a breath and cranked his neck. "No, I'm waiting for the question," said a stern Sam. Kensi smiled catching on.

"What question? Please Agent Hanna I am busy, enough with the mysterious hocus-pocus. What do you want? said Arkady losing his patience.

Sam looked at him seriously and ignored the jibe. This wasn't going to get ugly. This was about the case and Callen and that's how it was going to stay. "You haven't asked me about Callen." Arkady looked like the little boy who got sprung with his hand in the cookie jar. "You know where Callen is, that's why you didn't ask, which means you know something we need to know."

"I know nothing about Callen," said Arkady walking back and opening the door, "please you need to go now."

Sam didn't have the patience Callen did with Arkady. They danced around each other like primadonnas of the Bolshoi, trading innuendos and information. Sam wanted to know what Arkady was being so furtive about. Sam stepped forwards and slammed the door shut. "You know something Arkady. You tell us or we'll take you in. How will that look to your 'people'?"

Arkady played the fool but he wasn't one. He would've been dead long ago. "Follow me." He led them to the study, "Sit I would offer you some Vodka but I know you're on duty. Now, the destruction of Raza's camp may not have made Entertainment Tonight but it made great waves in the arms trading world. When I heard what had happened, and I heard you Agent Hanna were one of the soldiers rescued, I knew Callen must have been involved. I have my sources."

Kensi spoke up, "So it was you visiting him in hospital."

"So much for discretion…yes. I wanted to see Callen with my own eyes. I heard he was injured and now so sick. We've been through a great deal and whether you believe it or not, he is like a brother to me. I needed to make sure he was safe," said a contrite Arkady.

"Why, is he in danger?" asked Sam moving forward on his chair dismissing the Arkady's reference to Callen's health.

"I don't know. It depends. Why did you come Agent Hanna?" His manner was curt and sombre.

"This man…" Sam hands Arkady the photo and waits for his reaction. Sam is not disappointed. His face blanches, "…has entered the US as Yuri Slakov at the same time we discovered a possible terrorist attack on a naval place of interest. We are concerned about the connection Arkady, as should you. Callen remembers Slakov from the compound but also identified him as Misha from when he worked a covert mission in the Ukraine several years back. He was selling arms for something or someone called Koba."

"Yuri Slakov is Mikhail Brenko ex-FSB. He uses his contacts in the FSB, the CIA, ISI every agency to buy, trade and sell arms. He hires himself out to people with the fattest wallets," explained Arkady.

"So what was he doing with Raza? He's a nobody?" said Kensi.

"That worries me. Raza'a group isn't the only one. Someone is sponsoring small terrorist groups like Raza's and Mikhail is the gofer," finished Arkady.

"Why? To what end?" asked Kensi again.

"That is what you get paid for, mon chere`. You need to join the dots and then maybe you get the prize," said Arkady smiling sarcastically. Kensi glared at him. She didn't like the nature of the comment.

"Ok…what do you know about Koba?" pressed Sam glaring at the large Russian.

"Niet…no one knows anything about Koba. It's a name and a presence that floats around like a big black cloud. Back in the day, we didn't know if it was a man or a company and we are still in the dark. If you find out, please extend me the courtesy and let me know. Don't concern yourself about Koba. Focus on Mikhail, follow him and he will lead you to the big fish. Now I think we are done," said Arkady rising from his chair.

Sam nodded to Kensi. Notwithstanding the obvious hostility from both parties, Sam was grateful. He extended his hand. Arkeday stopped and his eyes shot open, "An olive branch, Agent Hanna?"

"Let's start with a simple thank you." The two men shook hands.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry…a but shorter than usual.**

**Chapter 14**

All the bits of information that the team had gathered were written on the whiteboard set out neatly and pedantically: one of Sam's OCDs. He stood tall glaring at the names, trying to make connections. Gradually he felt a presence and he knew who it was. "Making any headway, Mr. Hanna."

Sam shook his head. "No. But I think this is way bigger than what it seems. I think we need to focus on the homeland threat first and see where it leads us," suggested Sam.

"Is that what Arkady thinks as well?" asked Hetty.

"You trust him Hetty?" asked Sam.

"No, I don't trust Arkady Kolchek but I trust his survival instincts…he shares that with Mr. Callen. It comes with being seasoned operatives," explained Hetty with a wry smile.

"So where do we go from here? There just doesn't seem like there's anything we can use," said Sam disheartened.

"We need a plan Mr. Hanna. We need to follow Brenko's every moment and see whom he meets up with, then we can deal with this threat. I just hope we're not too late."

"Eric and Nell are on that now already. We'll also find a way of putting a bug on him maybe some interference from Kensi," added Sam. Hetty nodded. There was no sense of jubilation just inevitability. They paused looking at the whiteboard then Sam asked, "How's G?"

"Much better. His memory is returning faster than hoped. He just needs rest, Mr. Hanna. The boy has been through a lot."

"No…I mean how is he? Stop holding out on me, Hetty. Not when it comes to G," he turned to face her. She could see he knew something.

"Whatever do you mean Mr. Hanna? said Hetty skirting the issue.

"Arkady said G was sick…not injured or hurt…but sick. What's wrong with Callen?" probed Sam.

"It's confidential," said Hetty looking away.

"Hetty, please…" Sam's pained voice broke down Hetty's defences, she turned and motioned towards the couch.

"Come sit down Mr. Hanna. This is private information and no one else must know until I inform Mr. Callen. He is yet unaware of his situation." Hetty told Sam everything Dr. Taylor had told her. They sat in silence until Sam gripped his head in frustration and sorrow. Hetty placed her hand on his shoulder, "Mr. Hanna?"

"I wanna talk to him," said Sam through gritted teeth.

"Not yet but soon I promise," said Hetty trying to calm the muscular giant.

Suddenly Hetty's phone beeped. "Hetty we've got something," said Eric.

**Up at Ops Centre**

Sam and Hetty were standing in front of the big screen when they were joined by Deeks and Kensi. Eric and Nell stood excited. "As you all know DHS monitor Mosques that have had or are known to have had ties with extremists groups. We piggy-backed on their surveillance and look who we found….Brenko talking to a man identified as Shah Haklemi," explained Eric smiling at the group. "But wait it gets better."

"Indeed Eric," said Nell. "We did some digging and Shah Haklemi is Raza Kaleen's cousin, on his mother's side. So we're thinking that the two incidents aren't isolated but related…"

"Because there's no such thing as coincidence. Formidable work children," interjected Hetty.

"But the connection? Why would they have any dealings with each other?" asked Deeks.

"Think about what we know," posed Sam, walking towards the screen. "Brenko is an arms dealer. He supplied for Raza. Raza's group was eliminated by us, specifically the SEALs. Intel has come in on a possible threat to a naval base…this isn't a simple random attack."

"It's revenge!" piped up Kensi. "Plain and simple…revenge…two birds with one stone."

"Yeah…and we have no way of infiltrating Haklemi's group to find out the target," griped Sam, frustrated and annoyed.

For a long moment there was silence. Then Hetty spoke, "There is someone who might help." Before anybody could say a thing. She was gone.

"Hate when she does that," scoffed Deeks.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Could she do this to him? Was it right to ask it of him considering everything he'd been through? She'd explain the situation and ask him if he would. But would he be well enough? Was she willing to risk his life…again? That's all she seemed to be doing lately.

An uncertain Hetty entered Callen's room and saw him standing by the window. He was shirtless. He was holding it in his hands. He was so thin and the scars stood out like neon signs detailing the horrors of his life. "Hello Hetty?" he said without turning around.

The worry and the concern that had been plaguing Hetty disappeared and joy filled her being. She recognised that voice. It wasn't Aziz. This voice belonged to G. Callen…her Callen.

"Hello Mr. Callen…so good to have you back," she said moving towards him holding back the tears. Callen smiled. She saw the reflection in the window and smiled in return. He turned towards her, still feeling light headed. "Well look at you. Ready to leave this place."

"You know me. Can't stay in one place for too long. How are the others?" he asked walking over to his bed and finding his balance before sitting on its edge. She watched him slowly pulling on his t-shirt.

"The team is well and anxious for news of you…Your memory has returned I take it?" she asked sitting in the chair facing Callen.

"Yeah. It came all at once, like a tsunami of information. Gave me vertigo. Felt queasy after that, bit like driving with Kensi," he smiled. Oh, how she loved his smile. It had been a while. She was lost in thought. "Hetty?" he prompted, looking strangely at her.

"Yes…lost in the moment. You gave us quite a scare. We thought we had lost you in more ways than one. You **do **remember everything?" she dared to ask.

"Yeah…everything is crystal clear," he answered solemnly. "Did they make it out?" he asked masking the pain of betrayal.

"Yes they did. They are so appreciative and grateful of your sacrifice. They have put your name forward for the Medal of Honour," said Hetty unaware of the depths of Callen's feelings.

"Really? Well, they can withdraw it. It's amazing what a guilty conscience can do," said Callen spitefully.

"Mr. Callen, really. Lt Commander Westerman is truly indebted to you."

"I know. I know there was nothing they could've done without putting all their lives at risk. I don't begrudge them, really. But watching that Humvee drive away Hetty…" his voice hiccupped and he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

"It brought back all those abandonment issues…I understand and I am sorry."

Callen finally brought himself to look at Hetty as he wiped the tears with the back of his hand, "How's Sam?"

"Beating himself up about what happened to you and being beaten up by a fiercely loyal Deeks who won't let him forget leaving you behind…and NCIS," she said trying to lighten the mood.

"Good to know someone has my back," said Callen unsure about his feelings for Sam.

"We all have your back…I now owe General Air Force Chief of Staff Patterson a old and very expensive bottle of Chateau Margaux 1952 for the lease of one of his planes. When you feel up to it Mustafa could do with a phone call. He is a remarkable friend and an honest man. He saved your life and put his in peril, as did Miss Blye, Mr. Deeks and Mr. Hanna," said Hetty.

He turned sharply, "I didn't ask them to."

"That's not the point, Mr. Callen, that's not the point at all. I am outlining how important you are in their lives and how much you are loved." She placed her hand on his knee and looked at him, "Callen, believe me." She had never used his name like that and it resonated with the agent. He nodded comprehending her underlying message.

Enough with the emotional circus, Callen decided to move onto to business, "So when can I leave here? I'm getting cabin fever."

Hetty burst out laughing, "You have only been conscious for a few days. How do you feel, really?"

"Ok…just tired. It usually doesn't take me this long to recover," stated Callen a bit surprised at his less than miraculous speed of recovery.

"Gets longer as we get older. However we need to talk," she said seriously.

Callen cocked his head, "What is it? It's about Slakov."

"Yes. We have uncovered a terrorist plot to stage an attack on a naval base on home soil. Slakov aka Mikhail Brenko met with a Pakistani national, a person of interest. We assume that this Pakistani national Shah Haklemi is buying weapons from Brenko. Haklemi was Raza's cousin." Callen's eyes widened. Suddenly the pieces starting falling in place. Hetty continued, "The only two factors left are the when and the where. We need someone to infiltrate the group and uncover that information, Mr. Callen." Her eyes moved to towards his and she stared at him pleadingly and sympathetically. "There is no one else and there is no other way. If there was…"

Callen interrupted grinning, "You wouldn't be asking me."

"Yes and it pains me to do so…Your alias has the background and the history of being a survivor of the massacre. I feel it will give you immediate clout with Haklemi," said Hetty posing a very solid argument.

"It's very plausible. But I'm not mission ready Hetty. I could be a liability," said Callen cringing at the very words.

"That is the only issue I'm concerned about. But this is your decision. If it sways you at all they will expect you to be injured, broken and out for revenge. We will pull you out once you have the information. I know your spirit Mr. Callen. I know I am asking a lot from you and you have every right to decline. But we have no other option. Desperate times call for desperate measures."

Callen ran his hands through his hair. It was longer than normal and it bothered him, "I think I need a haircut and a shave, but I might hold off and wait until I finish this mission and then Hetty, I'll be putting in for holidays."

Hetty suddenly let out the breath of anticipation she was holding, "Are you certain? A lot relies on your performance Mr. Callen, you ability to keep it together," questioned Hetty.

"I fooled them in Pakistan, this will be a walk in the park. Spring me from this place, get me some steaks with bacon on the side and I'll deliver the bastards to you along with the time, date and place," said Callen smiling.

"Thank you Mr. Callen. I'll go and talk to your doctor's and when I can **spring** you." Hetty stood and rubbed Callen's arm affectionately and turned to leave when Callen's voice caught her before she left.

"Hetty…I know you're keeping something from me and I know it's about my health. Something's been off for a while, before I went to Pakistan. I don't need to know…not now. After this is finished I'll deal with it," he said quietly but decidedly.

"Are you sure Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked keeping a lid on the emotions threatening to gush out.

"Is there anything I can do about it right now?"

"No."

"Then I'm sure." Callen bowed his head. She didn't argue and she didn't object. He had guessed right. Something was wrong. Something big. But he wasn't afraid. He'd suffered through so much already.

"I won't be long." Her boy had come through and she knew he would. Then she'd tell him and she'd make sure he got the necessary care.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx


	15. Chapter 15

**I am so overwhelmed by your responses to each chapter. Thanks everyone.**

**Chapter 15**

Two days had passed since Callen had been sprung from the hospital. He was still weak but the diet of Waygu steaks Hetty had him on, had increased his iron levels tenfold. He had one more day until his undercover information would be organized and then he was going in.

Today was a good day. Callen awoke to light streaming through the window. The light exercise regime he was on was starting to make him feel stronger and more confident that he'd be able to see this through. He descended the stairs and found a pot of hot coffee waiting for him accompanied by a note scrawled in Hetty's favourite Mont Blanc pen…_Don't forget your meds, don't forget to eat. _Callen's face broke into a wide smile. _Yes mum_ he found himself thinking. He poured himself a coffee and inhaled the arousing aroma, then placed some bread in the toaster, that Hetty forbade him to dismantle.

He waited patiently whilst sipping the coffee and practicing Pashto and Urdu, especially the Koran passages used in their religious services, when he heard something in the yard. He placed his coffee on the kitchen bench. He looked around and slid Hetty's carving knife out of the knife block and slowly inched towards the French doors. He waited calmly as the door opened and Callen flew into action; he grabbed the perpetrator's arm, twisting it far too high behind his back causing pain then placing the knife at the man's throat. Callen's fight or flight instinct blinded him to who the intruder was. It was only when he heard the familiar voice calling his name, that Callen released his hold and drew the knife away.

Sam spun around and came face to face with Callen. The ex-partners locked eyes for a moment without moving. Then Sam broke the trance-like stand-off by rubbing his sore arm, "Hello to you too."

Callen remained silent as he walked over to the knife block and replaced the knife, then walked over to the stool he had previously occupied and sat, grabbing his lukewarm coffee. Finally his eyes lifted. Sam couldn't get over the distant gaze in Callen's eyes. "You should know better than to creep up on me," said Callen, replacing his coffee then holding out the cup, "Want some? Italian roast."

Sam nodded, "Yeah and yeah." Callen filled the mug and placed in on the kitchen bench opposite him. Sam sat down and pulled the mug closer watching Callen drink in silence, "You're looking good G."

Callen smirked, "You too. Bit early for a visit."

Sam hated the tension. This was the first time he had laid eyes on Callen since leaving him fighting for his life at the hospital. "It's past 10…and you don't normally sleep."

"Yeah well things change," Callen's face was unreadable, "and drugs help as well."

"Maybe I should've called first," Sam confessed.

"Maybe then I would've dressed for the occasion," answered Callen smartly.

Sam huffed and pushed his mug forward, "I thought this would be easier."

"Umm, what would be easier?" asked Callen, removing the toast and placing them on a plate.

"Talking to you."

"It's been a while. We've both been through a lot," Callen said casually, whilst spreading jam on his toast and taking a bite.

"G!" Sam raised his voice slamming his hand on the bench. "Stop!"

Callen did stop and placed his toast back on the plate, his face terse with restraint. "I'm hungry. I need to eat. Why did you come Sam?"

"For exactly this…this tension, everything that has been left unsaid between us. I have so much I've got to say to you and you won't let me," said Sam, his anger and hurt totally transparent.

"I haven't been avoiding you."

"Right…sure. Well there is no more avoiding. I need to speak to you and you will listen dammit G."

There was no running away from this so Callen had to listen. He reluctantly cocked his head and placed his hands out in surrender, "You've got my attention."

"Don't be cocky." Callen scoffed. "Fine, behave like a child. Why do you always make things harder than they need to be?'

"Sam what is it? There are things I need to do and you've got a job to get back to," said Callen, backing down a fraction.

"Ok fine, I came to explain…I don't know…to reconnect G and to say thank you…there is no way I could ever express my gratitude for saving my ass and the other guys on my team. You came for me regardless of your safety, man.

You brought me back to Raina and the kids, you brought me back to my life, my friends. You brought me back to a future and I want you in it. I don't want this to be what keeps us apart G…we've been through so much and I won't let this come between us. You are my brother," whispered Sam.

At the mention of brother Callen froze as a sarcastic smirk started to appear. "A brother huh? A brother that you leave behind…TO DIE!" said Callen finally showing emotion. Sam had hit a nerve. "I was running to rendezvous with you, then Hussein stopped me. I improvised to make sure you would all get out. I knew the risk I was running. I KNEW that there'd be a chance that I would die there and I was ok with that. But I thought you'd do the same for me. The moment I saw you driving away I… the moment I felt the hot searing bullet rip into my flesh, I gave up. I wanted to be in that Humvee with you but I wasn't. The SEALs had won again. Again you picked someone else over me. I picked myself up and crawled away, while people were shooting and screaming and dying. Then came the patriots. The explosion threw me for metres into the air. The shrapnel ripped into my skin and the fire…the fire was everywhere and you were with you team. That's twice you left, twice YOU walked away from our partnership. I don't care whether I lived or died…my life is dispensable Sam. But my loyalty and my friendship isn't… and what hurts is that you seem to think they are," finished Callen, trying to calm his breathing. Suddenly he felt light-headed and started swaying on the chair as his head started to slump.

Sam noticed the decline in Callen's resolve and noticed his distress, knocking over his stool he ran to Callen's side, "G…G?"

Callen breathed deeply and shook his head, focusing on Sam's familiar face and pushing him away, "I'm good…"

"You can't go undercover tomorrow," said Sam still holding onto Callen.

Callen shrugged Sam's hands off, "This needs to be done. I am the only one that can do this. You wanna start making amends, well from where I stand, you've got two choices; you can have my back on this or you can leave. Your choice? But you choose wrong and there is no going back."

"Ok…I'll have your back. I get that my actions hurt you…and just for the record, I ordered them to wait. I **did** wait for you but I had to make a leader's decision. I had to get them to safety or else your efforts and maybe your sacrifice would've been in vain. We started coming under fire and I told them to go. I never stopped looking back and then I saw you running round the corner of the bunker but it was too late to go back. The last thing I saw was you standing there alone and worse then that, you taking that shot and going down. It killed me. For months that's all I saw; when I was asleep, when I was awake, when I watched TV, when I talked to Nate…you were always on my mind and that damn image of you falling to the ground and me not being there to catch you. I am so sorry G…so sorry," finished Sam so tightly wound. He needed to get out before he'd explode. Callen sat still and quiet, avoiding the big man. "Before I go…just remember, I didn't ask you to come and save me."

Sam gave Callen one last glare and stormed out. Callen sat despondent and inert at the realization that Sam was right. Sam didn't ask Callen to risk his life to save his. Callen chose to embark on the assignment; it had been his own free will. He didn't have the right to blame Sam, he didn't have the right to resent him his freedom yet that's what he was doing. Instead of rejoicing the fact that they were both alive and fairly unscathed, he was brooding and blaming Sam for something he had no control over. Sam did everything right. He was their commanding officer and his loyalty was to them at that time. However it did not lessen Callen's hurt. He hoped in time it would lessen and fade into the past, but now it was raw and it was a throbbing open wound.

He glanced at his watch and noticed that Sam's visit had taken the entire morning. Kensi was picking him up at noon. He jumped into the shower and he allowed the water to ease the muscle tension in his neck, as he scrubbed his weary body. Drying off he heard the doorbell. He moved over to the intercom, "Yeah."

"Callen it's Kensi. You ready?" she asked spritely.

"Just getting dressed. Come in I won't be long." He buzzed her in and he got dressed. He pulled on a pair of dark blue jeans and a light blue polo, then gave his hair a scrub with the towel. He couldn't shave. He needed the wispy beard that had grown over the weeks. Grabbing his essentials, he descended the stairs to find Kensi finishing the remainder of his toast.

"Gee I love this, what is it…probably some exotic fruit found in the remotest regions of the Amazon," she said licking his fingers looking up at him.

Callen smiled and this time it reached his eyes. She stood there transfixed. He was simply amazing. Here was a man who had risked his life to save his friend and men who besmirched him; a man who had survived death in a god-forsaken place, traveled across the world thinking he was someone else, laid in a hospital bed for days and then resurrected himself as G. Callen…front cover of GQ.

"The marmalade…it's quince. Nothing exotic Kens," he added watching her stare. "Something wrong?"

He had caught her staring and she was embarrassed, "No!" She jumped, "No. You look great."

"You're lying."

"Bit thinner than usual but great Callen…anything thing better than when we found you," said Kensi turning sullen.

"Yeah…" He had thanked her before, over and over but it never seemed enough. He was quiet for a moment when Kensi moved closer, seeking a more personal interaction. "Sam said he was coming over. Did he?"

Callen turned his head and his blue eyes connected with hers and she felt like fainting, "He did."

She waited for him to continue, "And? Did you guys kiss and make up?"

He laughed at her choice of words, "I don't know." He walked away towards the door. She ran up to him and gripped his arm and stopped him.

"What do you mean, you don't know? You need to fix this thing between you and Sam, Callen?" Kensi pushed.

"Simple as that huh? At the moment it just seems too hard," he glared at her, his eyes full of pain and regret.

"You don't mean that," she stated fiercely.

"Yeah, I do. Sam told me his side of the story and I told him mine. There are issues Kensi that need time to sort out. I get what Sam said, I truly do. I can't do it now. I need time that's all I'm saying," said Callen calmly.

"You need time, ok…that's understandable. But just remember a brotherhood, a partnership like the one you share with Sam is rare. Don't let it die Callen…don't let it slip through your fingers," said an emotional Kensi.

"I know."

"Ok, we better get you to OPS or else Hetty won't be happy."

Callen stopped in his tracks and Kensi did too, worried that he was feeling unwell, "You ok?"

"Yeah…promise me one thing?" asked Callen. Kensi nodded.

"Easy on the accelerator and brake combo. This is a clean shirt," said Callen keeping a straight face.

She got the joke and it warmed her heart, "Funny…good to see you didn't injure your funny bone." They walked out laughing. It was a good start to the day.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Callen walked into OPS and he suddenly felt at home. It had been a couple of months since he'd been back. His colleagues greeted him warmly and enthusiastically. He welcomed all their greetings and well wishes. He smiled profusely promising them all a drink. He climbed the stairs with Kensi at his heels. She couldn't help but feel protective of her hero. She had seen him at his worst and she vowed it would never happen again, regardless of how naïve that sounded.

The moment he stepped into the Ops centre the team froze. The man standing in front of them wasn't the Callen they remembered. He was thin and gaunt, sporting a beard, longer hair and a tired and drained look. Regardless looking like death warmed over, his presence sparked joy and hope. Eric greeted him with a slap on the shoulder, then by Nell who hugged him fiercely, a smile and a wink from Deeks and a raised eyebrow from Hetty, who shifted her gaze from Callen over to Sam. Sam nodded his head in acknowledgement and Callen responded in kind. "Mr. Callen good to have you among the living and gracing the Ops centre again," announced Hetty, resulting in various forms of yelps and whoas. He just smiled. "Eric if you please, we need to update Mr. Callen on the new developments."

"Shah Haklemi has started gathering young men who are sympathetic to his cause and what he calls retribution for the massacre at Wana by the American government. He is very clever and has disguised the meetings as simple social gatherings. From the large number that attend, he has chosen an elite conclave. That's all the intel we've managed to get. He is smart and very suspicious. Everything is extremely low tech and information is passed on by word of mouth. They will die before they give up their brothers," concluded Eric, sheepishly looking at Callen.

"So what's the plan?' asked Callen business as usual.

"We need you to resume your alias and demand to see Shah Haklemi…make noise Mr. Callen. Tell him who you are and that you worked closely with Raza. Tell him what you saw and demand passionately that you are given the honour to seek vengeance. Once you discover the day and the place of their planned attack, we will take you out and storm their rat's hole. That's the plan," explained a rather inflamed Hetty. "Does anyone have any questions? No?" Everyone was silent as they shook their heads. "Well then, it's a go. Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna a word."

Callen moved towards Hetty and felt Sam by his side. It felt good and it felt safe. She looked at her boys up and down and grinned. "What's so funny?" asked a perplexed Sam.

"Not funny, Mr. Hanna more along the lines of heart-warming, delightful, inspiring, hopeful," answered Hetty. "I have my best and brightest together where they belong to fight another day."

Callen couldn't help but smirk at the old lady's sentimentality, whilst Sam burst out laughing. She placed her tiny yet strong hangs on theirs and said, eyeing them willfully, "Words of wisdom…in order to rebuild a broken house, one needs to tear it down, strip it naked and only then, when the foundations are exposed, one can start rebuilding brick by brick." She patted their arms and left, leaving Callen and Sam alone.

Callen was the first one to break the ice. "I never got to say thank you for coming to get me. Must've been hard going back there," said Callen staring right at Sam.

"You don't need to thank me G…I said I'll always have your back. I get what Hetty said. We will rebuild this," him motioned between them, "and it will be stronger."

Callen nodded. Sam turned to leave when Callen's voice stopped him, "You'll have my back during this op." He needed Sam's reassurance.

"Every damn step of the way G…every damn step."

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	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The hall behind the Mosque was rather large and separated into three spacious rooms. Callen could hear their traditional music filling the evening air. Callen had just found himself again, but he was afraid of this alias. Aziz's identity had implanted itself firmly in his psyche. He was the only one that understood the horror he'd been through. Was he becoming schizophrenic allowing Aziz to have so much reign over his conscience? He wasn't sure and he found it disconcerting. However this time he was on home soil and he had his team to back him up. He wasn't alone.

Callen took a deep breath and slipped into his alias so naturally. He walked carefully and warily. He arrived at the door and was greeted by a few older teenagers laughing and pushing each other around. He kept up his guard. They just pushed past him and continued their game. Callen looked at them nervously. He couldn't afford any cracks to show. He had to play this cool. He pushed through the door and the old frayed beaded curtain that hid behind it. He looked around scanning the inside. It was spartan. There was a collection of mismatched plastic chairs, some old card tables and a variety of rugs and books stacked in a corner. He kept looking around. Some cast him sidelong glances, others whispered, then a man disappeared through a right exit. It caught Callen's eye. He continued to walk around slowly when an older man approached him. "Hello and welcome brother. I am Aadil Maram. Is this your first time at our gathering?"

"Yes. I am looking for Shah Haklemi," said Callen not wasting anytime whatsoever. His demeanor was serious and urgent, and rather pitiful.

"I am sorry but there is no one here by that name, brother." His kind eyes suddenly became deadly. "You are mistaken."

"No. I am Aziz Umar. I survived the massacre at Wana. Raza spoke to me about his cousin Shah Haklemi. Please I need help. I need to see him," Callen sounded desperate and he was. Time was of the essence and he needed that information yesterday. He feigned collapsing.

Aadil steadied Callen, "Brother you are ill?"

Callen played his part beautifully exaggerating the already ailing state of his body, "I have not eaten in days and I am still hurting from the wounds. Please I need to see him." Aadil motioned to another man who led the way while Aadil escorted Callen. They walked through the middle room and Aadil told Callen to wait. He parted the curtains and entered. After a few moments Callen saw Aadil motioning him to enter.

Callen took a quick glance and recognized Shah as the man from the surveillance photos. He kept his gaze downward while Aadil spoke, "Shah, this is him."

Shah stood up and took Callen by the arm. Callen sheepishly looked at him cowering and lowly. "Please brother, we are all equal here. Come sit. Aadil get the man some water. So you were at Wana?" asked a shocked Shah.

Callen grabbed the cup and drank quickly trying to emphasize his thirst and nodded. "You survived?"

Callen placed the cup down and wiped his mouth with the ratty sleeve of his tunic, "Barely. I wouldn't have if a friend of mine had not come looking. He organized for me to come here."

"Why here brother?" asked Shah quite mystified, "Of all places. One would think you would find a place far away from the infidels."

"No!" Callen looked at them disbelievingly. "You wouldn't say that if you saw what I did. It was hell."

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to offend. I want to know what happened Aziz. Please tell us. Tell me about my cousin and how he was robbed of his life," apologized Shah. Callen had them eating out of the palm of his hand.

Callen took another drink and held the cup between his hands with a slight tremble, "The night of the attack, Raza organized a small celebration. We were relaxed and enjoying the momentary lapse of vigilance. However Raza was always thinking…he was concerned about the prisoners. He didn't want anything to happen to them until he got his demands met. He asked me to check on them. I did as he asked. He was such a great leader and a visionary. When I reached the area towards the south wall, I heard explosions from within the camp and then the shooting. I ran towards the prisoners' cell. But I was too late. The prisoners had already escaped in one of our vehicles…ones that I fixed for Raza. I watched them drive away. Then I took a shot here." Callen pulled the tunic down from his shoulder exposing the still healing wound. He saw their concerned faces.

"I fell but I got up and started to go back to see if Raza and Hussein were fine..." Callen's gaze went distant and his voice monotone. "That's when I saw them coming, like infernal serpents in the night sky. I knew what they were. The Americans love their Patriot missiles. I ran as fast as I could…I'm sorry. I showed cowardice. I didn't die for my cause. I ran and was thrown by the explosion…I thought I was going to die. I don't know what happened to Raza. But he was in the centre of the compound, at the heart of the explosion."

"Raza died a true martyr, like his followers," contemplated a sad Shah. "So you came to tell me what happened?"

Callen stood up quickly shaking his head in annoyance, "No…yes. Isn't it obvious why I came to you? I was a coward. I ran away and I survived. I disserted my cause and my brothers. I'm here to make amends, to seek vengeance on the Americans. I can't do it on my own. I have nothing. I know nobody. I am alone."

Silence and shock permeated the room; Shah, Aadil and another man froze stiff. Callen noticed their disposition and wondered whether he had pushed them too far. "I am sorry," he said quietly collapsing in the chair, "Maybe I was wrong coming to you. I'll find another way. I can see you have made a life here and have Americans as friends. I should not have come." He got up wearily and started to leave when Shah's voice stopped him.

"Wait please Aziz. Stay."

"No, no. I only came here because Raza told me about the plans you and him had talked about…he missed you. He called you _the general_. I thought you could help me. But I will find another way. I will redeem myself," finished Callen.

"_The general_…I had forgotten…yes when we were children. Stay Aziz, we may have a way for everyone to get what they deserve."

Bingo! Callen was in. The last piece of information had sealed it. "Ok…"

Sam waited patiently sitting on egg-shells listening attentively. The optic fiber sewn into Callen's tunic was letting them into Callen's world of espionage.

**Back at Ops**

The optic fiber was working effectively and Callen's team was privy to everything that was being said and it gave him a sense of safety. It dared him to go further. "How does he do that?" said Deeks shaking his head in wonder. "That general thing, wasn't real was it?"

Hetty raised her eyebrows, "No Mr. Deeks, it wasn't. Mr. Callen has dealt with so many of these types of people. He knows the right way to approach them. It's called memory suggestion…he was playing on Shah's sentimentalism concerning his cousin. Risky but in this case, a risk worth taking."

"Hetty…" continued Deeks.

"Ummm," sung Hetty.

"How can you be so certain about Callen's methods and actions? Your faith in him is scary."

Hetty smiled and looked at Deeks sweetly, "Mr. Deeks the answer is simple. I trained him, and it's in his blood. Now start with the searches and surveillance on Aadil."

Sam hadn't moved from his position next to Eric as he observed Deeks and Hetty's interaction. He needed to take the lead on this one. Things were going just too slow for Sam and he was worried about Callen going undercover for an extended period. He walked over to Hetty who had reassumed flicking through a folder of files. She didn't stop as she said, "Yes Mr. Hanna?"

"Do you think it's a possibility that Shah might ask G to prove himself before divulging any information?" asked Sam quietly, not wanting to spook the others.

Hetty stopped in her tracks, "It is a possibility Mr. Hanna. But we are hoping it won't come to that."

"But it happens in 9 out 10 cases. There are too many variables…including G's life. The sooner he's out, the better it is. So what if we take control of this operation? What if a target was handed to them on a silver platter?" suggested Sam.

"Continue…"

"We give them someone to kill. Someone they hate," said Sam flatly.

"And you have a suggestion Mr. Hanna? I have a feeling I'm not going to like it," said a worried Hetty, now looking up at Sam.

"Me. I'll get on their radar. G will have to kill me," answered Sam.

"Ohhh dear Mr. Hanna. You are not seriously suggesting that I put you in such danger. I almost lost you once I cannot go through that again," said Hetty closing the file and shaking her head.

"You won't. We've done this before Hetty. We need to move this along," said Sam forcefully.

She took a deep breath then aspirated saying, "What do you have in mind?"

"I feel like taking a walk around the Peace Gardens, that's where most of the Islamic youth hang out. Word will get around. It won't take long." Sam was enthused.

"Fine. But you wear a vest at all times, Mr. Hanna. That's non negotiable."

"Agreed. I feel like stretching my legs anyway."

**Back at the Youth Centre**

A few hours had passed and Callen had been cleaned up and fed. They spent the time talking religion, their beliefs and of course, Callen's time at the compound. When quite abruptly Shah stopped and looked at Callen intently, "I admire your will Aziz and you fervor for redemption. However you are not a soldier and I fear that you will not have the resolve to complete your wish."

Callen froze. _Where did I go wrong? They were eating out of my hands, _thought Callen. "No, you are wrong. I left everything I had: my family, my career, my life to fight for my beliefs. These are not the actions of a pencil-pushing coward. I will not go to the afterlife without having my revenge and my fill of infidel blood. It seems I have more courage than all of you put together."

Before anyone could respond to Callen's soliloquy, Aadil's phone rang. "It's Patel…my son," said Aadil looking at Shah. He got up and moved away. Callen looked at him walk away avoiding Shah's scrutiny. He couldn't make out what Aadil was saying and it frustrated him. This was taking longer than he thought. Suddenly Aadil's face paled as he looked at the image on his phone. Without wasting a second, he rushed over to Shah and showed him the image. Shah stood up shocked.

"Our maker works in great ways." He nodded to Aadil then looked at Callen smiling. Callen was on the defense. "You speak eloquently about your need for revenge Aziz. This is your chance to prove it." Shah showed him the image. "He was one of the prisoners. I saw him on TV. He is alive and my cousin is dead. You prove yourself. Kill him and we will give you what you want."

They were right. The man in the image had been a prisoner at Wana but he was also his brother, the man he went to save…the man was Sam. At first desperation ran through his veins but soon his training overtook his fear, and logic prevailed. Sam wouldn't be so careless, he wouldn't expose himself…this was a plan. Callen knew they wanted a reaction and he wasn't going to disappoint them. Standing up he yelled, "He is here. I will kill him. Then I will come back and I will demand that you help me, or I swear I will kill you. Give me a gun. Tell Aadil's son to follow him until I get to where he is."

Aadil did as told.

Shah nodded and Aadil lifted several boards from the corner of the room and pulled out a Russian Baikal Viking MP-446 and handed it to Callen. He looked at it then checked it out like a pro, "Raza taught me many things in our short time together."

He gave them a last stare down and started walking out when Shah yelled out to Callen, "Wait! Aadil will come with you. He'll pass on his son's messages." Aadil nodded at Shah and at Callen. They were all agreed. Sam was going to die.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Hetty heard everything that transpired between the men in the hall. Sam's plan was working. However there was one problem: Aadil was with Callen and she was nervous how Callen would play it out.

"Mr. Hanna, Mr. Callen is on the move but he has a watcher. Be careful," she said softly.

"I'm all set. Pablo worked his magic with the vest. Just make sure Deeks waits a while for the rescue." There was silence for a few very pregnant seconds.

"Mr. Hanna?"

"Sorry Hetty…I see him. There's someone with him. Ok It's on," said Sam as he turned around and made eye contact with Callen.

Sam was impeccable…as soon as he saw Callen, his face blanched with fear of recognition. Keeping his eyes on Callen, he started to walk faster. Callen picked up his pace as well. "He recognizes you!" said a convinced Aadil.

"I knew you doubted me. Keep up," growled Callen. He started to cut through the parked cars, avoiding the pedestrians and picking up the pace. Suddenly Sam broke into a run. Callen did the same. He recognized the streets and realized where Sam was going. _Clever Sam, very clever, _thought Callen_._ "Slow down Aziz, I can't keep up," yelled Aadil.

"I can't lose him," screamed Callen as he continued the chase, through some tight alleyways until he emerged at the pier. He stopped for two reasons; he needed to make sure Aadil witnessed the murder and he needed to rest. He was just out of hospital and he was hurting. He was not well and his mind started to wonder whether it had been wise to stop Hetty telling him the truth about his health. Suddenly he heard Aadil's faint footsteps and he took off again towards the pier. He slowed his running to a jog. Ignoring the stares of the resident fishermen, he took in the area and saw Sam. The look that transpired between them was a look of acceptance, of trust, of loyalty and of something Sam hadn't seen before. Aadil missed their moment as he caught up panting. "Stay here," ordered Callen.

"No I will follow," argued Aadil.

"NO!" whispered Callen harshly, "Do as I say." Aadil didn't recognize the person that had just spoken to him. There was a ruthlessness to his voice. It froze Aadil on the spot. He was suddenly afraid.

Sam had gone as far as he could. He was at the end of the pier like a trapped animal and Callen was meters away. They were alone. "There is no where to run, dog. You will suffer like my brothers," yelled Callen, walking slowly towards Sam. They were playing their roles perfectly.

"No please you don't understand…it wasn't my fault," Sam pleaded holding out his hands nervously, "Please don't hurt me."

Callen stopped and smiled. Suddenly Sam saw something in Callen's eyes that he didn't recognize. He frightened him. He knew Callen was acting and he was a master, but this was different. Callen was absent. There was hurt and pain in his eyes. They were telling Sam how angry, how wounded and how disappointed he was. This was payback. Sam just shook his head ever so slightly. _Please no Callen…please no._ He was suddenly afraid that Aziz had re-emerged.

"I won't hurt you, dog. You will simply die." Callen raised his gun and fired four shots straight into Sam and a fifth one in the arm. Blood splurted from the punctures as Sam fell first to his knees and then slowly slumped onto his back. Callen walked over to Sam's lifeless body and looked down. Aadil finally joined him. He saw the blood oozing from his torso. He saw the blood trickling from the big man's mouth. Callen bent down and placed his fingers on Sam's carotid artery. "He is dead." Then he turned to Aadil and flashed him a sickly smile, "Help me push him into the water and make him more dead."

Afraid of Callen's murderous side, Aadil obeyed diligently. Sam's body was rolled off the pier in the freezing water. Aadil and Callen watched as his body floated for a while before sinking slowly down into the depths of the bay. Callen threw the gun in after him. "No evidence. Let's go."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Moments later, a very sore and very wet Sam was helped into a boat hiding among the shadows underneath the pier. Deeks and Kensi had dragged him in slowly not anticipating the true weight of a wet Sam. "Whoa man…I shouldn't hired a crane," joked Deeks grabbing Sam's belt and heaving him in. Sam was silent. He didn't even shoot Deeks a grimace. Deeks was chagrined.

Sam gathered himself. He sat shivering as Kensi threw a thermal blanket over him and wrapped it tight when Sam jolted, "Ummm."

"Sam? How bad does your chest hurt?" asked a concerned Kensi looking directly at Sam.

"Chest is fine. My arm…I need you to stop the bleeding," Sam answered avoiding Kensi and Deeks glares.

"What happened?" asked Deeks moving closer to Sam, concerned and worried.

Sam looked at Deeks and looked away. "Callen shot you?" asked Kensi incredulously.

Sam nodded, "Just a flesh wound."

"No Sam, Callen wouldn't miss. He shot you," confirmed Kensi. Then she turned to Deeks, "What are gawking at? Drive…Sam needs medical attention." For the first time ever, Deeks didn't answer back and did what he was told. This was big and he wasn't interested in getting in the middle of the Sam and Callen war.

"It's all good. I deserved it. I know G. It was his way…payback. Last time it was a left hook followed by a sharp deep jab in the abdomen. I'm thinking this deserved a bullet graze. For a split second I thought he had regressed and become his alias, but no…it was all G. He's good but he's no Pacino," finished Sam slowing his pulse and his anger.

"There's no excuse Sam…no excuse," said Kensi eyeing him with concern. Sam may have been taking the incident on the chin, but Kensi could see the pain in Sam's eyes. _Things were supposed to be getting better not worse, _thought Kensi as they sat in silence for the duration of the trip.

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a/n You probably noticed the use of the chosen one…after watching the episode I decided to use the term to explain what Callen needed to do.

All rights belong to Shane Brennan and the team.


	17. Chapter 17

Another update so soon? Yeah why not.

**Chapter 17**

Sam had been right, the bullet had merely grazed his arm but it didn't diminish the sting he felt, on his flesh and in his soul. He sat opposite a concerned Hetty, nursing a cup of hot tea and avoiding her gorgon stare. "I told you I'd be ok Hetty," he tried to appease her.

"Really? Because from where I stand Mr. Hanna, one of us has a bullet injury and it isn't me," stated Hetty rather curtly.

Sam shied away nodding appeasingly but he was determined to defend his actions and those of Callen's. "Callen caught onto the plan. Everything went as expected. This was just payback…it was Callen being Callen." He was trying to convince Hetty that he was fine with the whole ordeal. He was trying to brush off the incident. But the truth of the matter was that Sam had felt fear; the petrifying fear of being on the receiving end of Callen's gun. It had shaken him to the core. However this was his issue. He could deal with it. He had to for the sake of their partnership. He couldn't allow Hetty to see through him. Maybe that was wishful thinking. That's how it was going to be.

Hetty could see right through him but she also noticed that Sam had shut down the conversation and she really didn't want to cause him any more pain. Her boys were hurting enough. "Fine Mr. Hanna I know when not to meddle in a lover's tiff." Sam smiled as he sipped the tea.

Suddenly a voice erupted from the Ops centre, "Hetty, Callen's back at the centre."

"Thank you Mr. Beale…try the intercom in the furture. It's in perfect working order." Turning to Sam, "Mr. Hanna shall we adjourn upstairs."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first thing Shah saw was the fear on Aadil's face as he and Callen walked in. "The American dog is no longer part of this world," said Callen coldly, knowing that the bait had been taken and he was about to reel in the big fish.

Shah nodded, "Aadil, does he speak the truth?"

Aadil composed himself. The words stuck in his mouth. "Aadil? Is the soldier dead?" asked an annoyed Shah. Callen smirked.

Finally Aadil spoke, his voice quivered and waivered, "Yes. Aziz shot him 4 times in the chest. We checked his body. He was dead then we dumped him in the bay. It was quick and brutal." Shah looked at Aadil closely and then at Callen. There was a certain amount of tension between Aadil and Callen and Shah wasn't too sure what to make of it.

"Aziz how did it feel to have revenge?" asked an inquisitive Shah, whilst keeping his eyes still on Aadil.

"I want more. It is not for the faint hearted as Aadil can testify to. I want to take them all out. I want to make a statement so big that it will shake their security," said Callen vehemently but secretly hating every word. Aadil stiffened at the verbal innuendo of his lack courage. He couldn't quarrel with Callen's words because it was simply the truth.

"Come and sit down." Callen moved towards Shah with a backward glance at Aadil who refused to make eye contact with Callen. "We have been planning an attack on Marine Corps Base at Camp Pendleton." Callen kept his cool as everything he was hearing was being relayed to OPS. He needed Shah to talk. They needed that information. "It has been meticulously planned. We were waiting for the shipment of explosives. Now that it has arrived we are ready."

"I am at your disposal Shah…anything. I will do anything," said a calm Callen. He couldn't seem too anxious and displayed the right amount of excitement.

"Make your peace with your maker Aziz. It is planned for tomorrow at 11 hundred hours. You will drive a van into Camp Pendleton through the service entrance. We have a friend at the gate that will let you through. Your papers and your ID are being delivered as we speak. Once you're in, you will proceed to gate 3…only gate 3. You will be met by five men who are posing as cleaners. You will give them each a mop and a bucket from the van then they will go to the most populated places in the building," explained Shah, waiting for a reaction.

"What? A mop and a bucket?" asked Callen dumbly whilst laughing, masking his true intent.

"Brilliant is it not? The mop handles are filled with Octanitrocubane. It is the most powerful non-nuclear explosive around. The detonators are in the top cap of the mop. All that needs to be done, is for the cap to be depressed, it detonates the explosive and KABOOM!" explained a maniacal Shah.

"It is very well organized…very ingenious. But that explosive, it is very hard to come by, almost impossible," asked a worried Callen. This was serious. This was absolutely serious. He could almost see the shock on his team's faces. It was bigger than they had imagined.

"Yes indeed but we have friends, friends in high places with a lot of influence. Actually you may have met Slakov…he is a powerful fence for the buyers and the sellers. He supplied Raza with all the firepower he needed and he supplied us. He is well connected and has no allegiances...well only to money," laughed Shah at his own joke. It made Callen sick inside.

"The other brothers, they are committed?" asked Callen trying to extract as much information as possible.

"Yes, here look," he pulled out his phone and showed Callen the images of the five young boys. "This one is Pashir Ashwani, this one Owan Kadir, Salam Mugahir, Iole Mushala and Aadil's son Patel Maram. These men have all pledged their soul and their heart to the cause. They will be rewarded Aziz, as will be with the glory in the afterlife."

"Yes…but you haven't mentioned my role," asked Callen moving the conversation along.

"Yes…yes. After the bombs have been delivered, you take your own, using an access card we managed to duplicate and head into Pendleton's Top General's office on the top floor and detonate it at 11 along with the other five. The place with be razed to the ground and we will give a press release stating our reasons for the attack. This will show all of them that they can and must be held accountable. They will pay for their actions," explained Shah looking intently at Callen.

"Good. It is a good plan and I will do my very best. Thank you for this opportunity Shah. My soul will be cleansed with the deaths of the infidels and I will enter the afterlife whole," answered Callen suppressing all the emotions detrimental to undercover work: anxiety, fury and fear.

"Do you have anywhere to stay tonight brother?' asked a concerned Shah, moving closer to Callen, his back stiffening.

"No," the answer was brief.

"You can stay here. It is sheltered, warm and it has the necessary basics. I need to return home and be with my family. Til tomorrow Aziz." Shah gave him a brief but warm embrace. Callen responded in turn. He watched Shah leave and relieved to finally be alone with his thoughts when he felt eyes on him. He had felt like he was being watched for a while. He turned and Aadil was sitting on a stool staring at Callen. He didn't know what to make of the man. He had absolutely no idea what was going through his mind.

Callen walked over to Aadil and sat next to him. Neither spoke a word for a while until Callen broke the silence, "Aadil is something wrong?"

Aadil's face contorted with anxiety and worry. He was unsure how to breach the subject with Callen. But he started nonetheless, "You are certain of tomorrow?"

"Of course, have I not proven myself?" answered a confused Callen. He still couldn't reconcile the mixed feelings he had about this man.

"Yes, yes…"

"Then what is it?" asked Callen still trying to get a handle on the conversation.

"One of them is my son," finished Aadil.

Callen knew this and it was not what he had expected. He tried to remain in character yet what did one say to a father who was going to lose his son? "Yes I know. You must be very proud."

"Proud? Proud that I will lose my son, proud that I will not see him graduate…he is 17 and knows no better." He turned to face Callen, his eyes red with yet unshed tears. "You Aziz, you have suffered at their hands and I understand your need for vengeance, but my son, what does he know about suffering? What does he know about war? What does he know about death? I left Pakistan to escape the violence and the poverty. My life here is good and my children have a future without war and without terror. I can't let him go through with it and I can't stop him."

Callen was shocked. The idea that Aadil was not the radical he thought he was threw him. He took a moment to steady his thoughts and breathe through the pain that was radiating through his body. Aadil appreciated the silence but had become nervous. Maybe he was wrong to confide in this stranger? "Have you tried talking to him?" was all Callen could muster.

"Yes, as has my wife and his siblings but it has changed nothing. What can I do, Aziz? Can you help me or do you think I'm weak?" asked Aadil, those unshed tears now streaming down his cheeks.

"Your son has no place in this war. This is a war for the souls who have lost everything and everyone. I will do what I can to help him, to get him out before the infernal hour," said Callen hoping that Hetty and his team would be able to find and keep him safe.

"Patel, his name is Patel and the splitting image of me…please Aziz…get him out tomorrow please," begged Aadil placing his head between his hands.

Callen sat with slumped shoulders. It seemed that everyone was depending on him lately and he found the burden so very very heavy. He just couldn't save everyone. He had saved Sam and his team, but many lives had been lost as well; innocent or guilty they were people nonetheless…with hearts, souls and minds. He had nearly lost his own life on the way. He sighed deeply. "Goodnight Aziz," said Aadil. Callen didn't have the fortitude to answer.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Across town Hetty, Sam and Eric sat in the quiet and dark OPS centre hanging onto every word being spoken. Sam stared at the dark blank computer screen and sighed. He felt Callen's pain and he felt Callen's altruistic spirit thrash against reason. Saving Patel could compromise the mission and could compromise Callen, forfeiting his life for yet another innocent victim. Hetty walked over to Sam, "Yet again we are met with a hurdle Mr. Hanna and Mr. Callen is at the centre of it. What should we do?"

Sam paused as his eyes took on a sullen inevitable look, "I didn't want him going in but we can't intervene until we identify the other members and we can't find them before tomorrow. Do we help Patel? No. He is guilty as the rest. We arrest him tomorrow with the others. We place Camp Pendleton on alert and organize a reception party for them. As soon as they congregate around the delivery dock, we move in and shut it down. This has gone on for long enough," stated Sam, factually and concisely.

"Yes, yes it has. Mr. Hanna what about Mr. Callen and his habit of putting his life on the line for others?" reminded Hetty.

"He won't need to do anything other than show up…but I am making sure G gets out in one piece," promised Sam looking up at Hetty. Hetty nodded agreeing wholeheartedly with Sam.

"I'll get on the phone and brief Camp Pendleton. I wish we could contact Mr. Callen," then she turned to Sam, "to let him know he's not alone."

"He knows that Hetty now more than ever." Sam's words dripped with memories of a better time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Morning came too soon for Callen. The sun's rays pierced through the window directly onto his face causing Callen to wince in agony. He ached and he ached bad. Every nerve ending and every muscle screamed for the release of pain. He took a deep breath and held it until he dragged himself up, then he exhaled it slowly and steady, bracing himself for the aftereffect. He ran his hands over his face and begged for release from this case. He was simply so tired.

He mentally listed everything he knew about the mission. It eased his anxiety. Lost in his thoughts and managing his pain, it surprised him when Shah appeared in front of him, "Aziz, you look terrible brother. I brought you some food." He placed it on the table. Callen looked over and the walk seemed insurmountable, but he got up and walked over masking the pain.

"Shah…thank you," said Callen opening the warm container of homemade food. He was hungry so he ate carefully relishing every bite.

"Good huh? Eat. My wife should be on Masterchef," said Shah laughing as he did.

As Callen finished the last mouthful, Aadil came into the hall; the two men exchanged a brief and collusive look. Shah turned to Aadil, "Ah! Where have you been Aadil?"

"Checking the equipment Shah," answered Aadil, trying to avoid Callen's gaze.

"Good, good. Now we to go through the details and get you ready Aziz," stated Shah eagerly. Callen nodded and thought _let's finish this!_

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The team at Ops had everything they needed to come down on Shah and his terrorist group. Camp Pendleton was on alert and undercover operatives were ready. They were given strict orders not to shoot but to apprehend the five young men including Callen as quickly and efficiently as possible. It was risky but Callen's alias was too valuable to burn. Sam didn't like it neither did Hetty. It meant another delay for Callen but Granger always had the last say. Kensi and Deeks were waiting patiently in her car a block away from the hall that housed Shah with a several other NCIS operatives masked in black SUVs.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Another disguise another story _thought Callen. He gingerly slid into the driver's seat of the van and turned on the ignition. Shah extended his hands out urging Aadil to do the same and chanted a prayer. Callen had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The end seemed so near he just wanted to get it over and done with. "May our father be with you," said Shah.

Callen smiled and drove off. He was tired of the game. The drive was stressful. If anything would happen to the van, the fallout would be devastating. Callen drove steady and carefully. Finally he reached the outer gate of Camp Pendleton and was greeted by a man in uniform. "Hey! I'm supposed to take this to Dock 3," said Callen casually looking around taking in the perimeter.

The guard looked at him and smiled, "ID and papers please."

Callen smirked back. He recognized the guard. It was Nick Falter, a NCIA junior agent. Nonetheless Callen turned and grabbed the clipboard and showed him his ID. Nick did his job perfectly, "Seems in order. Dock 3 is to the left and whatever happens keep undercover. The boss gets peeved if the delivery is exposed." Nick paused and Callen smiled nodding. He got the message. He had to take the fall with the rest of them.

"Ok," answered Callen. It was a short drive to Dock 3. He spun the van around and backed it in very carefully. He got out taking off his jacket and walked round to the rear. He buzzed the intercom announcing his arrival when the huge roller door started its weary way up, bumping and grinding. Facing him were five young men dressed as cleaners. Callen froze…they were so young. "We need to get our supplies or else we'll be late and our supervisor won't like it," said the younger looking of the five.

"Yes of course," said Callen slowly opening up the back doors of the van. Suddenly like a rain of fire, marines came from every orifice of the delivery dock; guns aimed and primed, shouting GET DOWN, HANDS ON YOUR HEAD AND GET DOWN. The five young men did as they were told; the shock impeding their rational thoughts. They were scared and hadn't expected this. They didn't hesitate. They didn't think of heroic acts. They just did what they were told. They immediately fell to the floor and laid face down with their hands on their heads. Callen followed suit. That's when he saw Sam and he couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face. Sam had kept his promise...despite the bullet graze.

Meanwhile on the other side of town, the call rang out, "Alpha team, GO. Tango Team, GO!" Kensi and Deeks led the raid. Shah, Aadil and a handful of the faithful fell to their knees. "Hands behind you heads NOW!" yelled Deeks securing Aadil as Kensi placed ties around Shah's hands.

"What are you doing? We have done nothing," pleaded Shah. Aadil didn't utter a word. He was relieved. If they had discovered their plot, his son was safe. He wondered if this was Aziz's plan or divine intercession.

Kensi didn't bother replying. She just read him his rights and escorted them and the others to the waiting vans.

"Not bad for a day's work. Got the baddies, saved Callen and saved the world…well maybe a very small tiny fraction," said Deeks cheerfully.

He received a pat on the back, "Yep…one for the good guys. Hope Callen's ok?"

Indeed that concern was on everyone's mind.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Fear dripped from each arrested member of the terrorist group as they were ushered into small dingy cells. They were separated from each other and awaited questioning. Some of the junior agents had that under control. Shah and Aadil were Granger's to interrogate. They were left to stew a while longer.

Granger approached Hetty cautiously. "I gather Mr. Callen has been released," he scowled at Hetty.

Hetty took a moment to appraise Granger's intentions. "Yes he has, and is taking a moment before Mr. Hanna takes him home, Owen. His report can wait. After all we know everything that transpired between Mr. Callen, Shah Haklemi and Aadil Maram. These are the transcripts," she handed the folder over to the chagrin of Granger.

"Thank you." He took a moment, thinking carefully about his next words, "How is he?" He seemed genuinely troubled.

"Mr. Callen?" asked Hetty surprised by Granger's concern. He nodded sheepishly.

"Exhausted. He needs rest and then I will take him to the hospital. He needs to be checked over," said Hetty trying not to reveal the true nature of the visit.

"In our line of work Hetty we see so many operatives, some struggle with their work, some relish in it and some leave it too early. But rarely are we given the opportunity to work with agents like Callen. He reminds me of the reasons I love this job," said Granger some what embarrassed by the candor he was showing.

Hetty smiled knowingly and touched his forearm, "Yes, you are right Owen. He is remarkable, a true beacon of hope. Good luck with the interrogations and working with Homeland Security." That last comment was made with a wry smile.

"It's dirty work but someone has to do it. Tell Callen I'll see him soon," finished Granger walking away. Hetty nodded pleased that Granger had shared that with her. He did have a heart he just didn't wear it on his sleeve. Now she had to get back to her team and check in on everyone. It had been a harrowing week.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Callen had collapsed into the safety and comfort of the brown leather lounge that had become one of the team, and that he had made his own. He was exhausted. Every fibre of his body ached. A smile slowly crept onto his face as Sam handed him an ice-cold beer. Callen nodded and started gulping it down. "Whoa man…take it easy!" chuckled Sam watching Callen devour the beer with so much gusto. Callen raised his eyes to meet Sam's smiling. Watching him drink, Sam had time to take in his appearance. Callen had changed. He was a shadow of himself and it pained Sam to see his partner so withered and worn. His protective instinct tried to take over but Sam stopped it for two reasons: firstly, he didn't think he had that right any more; secondly, Callen didn't take too kindly to pity. All Sam wanted to do was to wrap Callen up in cotton wool for a while…just until he became himself again. But he knew that was impossible.

Callen took the bottle from his mouth and burped…loudly, "Well that would have to be the best drink I've had in a long time. Man I missed it." Callen fiddled with the empty beer bottle, "Any chance of another one?"

Sam let out a loud chuckle, "Not until you shower and shave, cause you stink man and do something with that hair…Encino man, and then maybe I'll see what I can do."

Callen cocked his head to the side, "Huh! See you haven't lost that thing you call a sense of humour…What about you drive me home, I shower and shave and you bring a 6 pack and maybe a peperoni pizza with bacon?"

Sam smiled knowing he had lost the argument, "And if I decline, you gonna shoot me again?"

"Nah, I think we're even now." Callen nodded towards Sam's arm, "Does it hurt?" he asked maintaining the light banter.

"I'm just grateful you're a bad shot," he said moving over to his partner and grabbing his arm. Callen swatted Sam's hand away.

"Just be grateful I'm a great shot. Could've aimed for the head or worse…" he said motioning down to Sam's nether regions.

"Yeah right. You can't even stand straight let alone shoot straight. Come on let me help," stated an annoyed Sam, scoffing at Callen's attempt at humour.

"I'm perfectly fine. I don't need a mother Sam. Haven't needed one for a long time…we always seem to have this conversation," Callen pushed himself up uneasily. He strained to remain upright, as his world seemed to tilt viciously. Sam didn't say a word as he watched Callen's pathetic attempt to prove himself. Disregarding Callen's stubborn protestations, he grabbed Callen's arm and steadied him. Callen looked up at the giant and silently acknowledged his help. But Callen couldn't, for the life of him, ask for help. Sam knew that. G never asked. It wasn't in his nature. So Sam always made sure he was there to catch G when he did fall.

The ride home was quiet. Callen had fallen asleep and the deep-set lines had evened out. Callen actually looked peaceful and content; younger than his years. Watching him like this, Sam wondered if he really knew Callen at all, or if he wanted to know what had made his partner the man he was today. Hopefully one day when he and Callen would reach a very old age, Callen might share his past but until then, Sam was happy. Callen was alive and breathing next to him.

Sam pulled the car up to the kerb and left Callen in the car while he checked out his house. All clear. He opened Callen's door, "G man, come on we're home."

Callen stirred, "Mmmm… câteva minute mai mult." (few more minutes - Romanian)

Sam smiled holding back his laughter, "G…come on out…enough with the, what is it now Russian?" He tried pulling him out, but G was stubborn.

"G!" yelled Sam becoming somewhat annoyed.

"سام آمنة الآن استطيع النوم (Sam's safe now let me sleep – Arabic)," murmured Callen squirming in his seat. Sam stopped. Arabic he understood…Sam's safe. He stopped for a moment taking in Callen's sheer compulsion over Sam's safety. It made Sam realize how selfish he had been leaving in the first place. He had everything he needed; a great job, a family, team-mates he regarded as brothers, a home and finally he had G. There was no way he could ever describe their relationship. He had tested it and almost lost it.

Without another thought, Sam gently grabbed Callen who now was sound asleep and hoisted him up into a fireman's hold. Sam carried him inside and gently placed him on his bed. He didn't bother to undress him, he didn't bother to do anything except cover Callen's cold fragile body and let him sleep. Content that Callen was safe he quietly moved the lounge chair into Callen's room and sat. He couldn't let Callen out of his sight, not tonight, not ever if he could help it.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam woke with a start and briefly wondered where he was. He looked around and it all came rushing back to him. He untangled his limbs that were numb from the night's slumber confined in Callen's retro lounge chair. He sat upright and ran his hands over his face…he so needed a shower. His eyes finally focused and he instinctively looked towards the bed. Callen wasn't there. A feeling of immediate panic overcame Sam. He frantically looked around when suddenly he stopped…a waft of brewing coffee danced around his nose. He smiled. He took in a deep breath…_he's here_ thought Sam. He trudged into the kitchen and saw a showered and shaved Callen sitting on a stool drinking his coffee. He had also found time to clipper his unruly mop. He looked up smirking at his partner, "Look what the cat dragged in?"

Sam flashed him a sarcastic smile and grabbed the nearest mug, poured himself some coffee and sat opposite a smug Callen. "You slept well I take it?" asked Sam.

"No…when do I ever sleep well but I did sleep for a few hours. You?" asked Callen still smiling.

"Wipe that smirk off your face. That would have to be the most uncomfortable chair ever made. I slept too but not **well**." Sam smiled and Callen managed a chuckle. "Seriously though man, how you feeling?" Sam's face darkened.

Callen stared at Sam hard and wondered why on earth Sam would go there now. He had managed to push all the bad stuff away and just wanted to relax and reconnect with Sam. "I'm good," Callen finally said curtly. He took one big gulp of coffee and stood turning towards the sink when he heard Sam exhale loudly.

"I…sorry G…sit down…I didn't…" Sam was lost for words. He had pushed too far but he was feeling the groove back…he thought he and Callen were good.

Callen put his cup in the sink and placed his hands on the bench, back to Sam. Sam could see Callen's shoulder blades jutting out from his back and his jeans barely resting on his hips. He shouldn't have said anything but he didn't want to pretend anymore. He wanted to show Callen he was here for him. Callen turned around and sat back down. His face furrowed. His eyes were still sunken and his skin still pale but the Callen fire was there. "I'm ok Sam…really. I just need some time to get it together. But I'm good," said Callen looking at Sam almost apologetically.

"I messed up G," confessed Sam.

"Sam it's water under the bridge and far as I'm concerned we're good…we're good," Callen said clearly and passionately. He could see the pain in the big man's face and he had to nip this in the bud. Callen had to stop this angst and blame game. But he couldn't open his heart, not just yet. He couldn't share his pain; there was just so much of it he wouldn't know where to begin and now despite the recent distance, he couldn't let Sam down. So Callen did what he did best, bury his pain for the sake of others. **He** could deal with it, Sam couldn't. If he had a bad day, it was fine. He didn't have a family relying on him; Sam did. He was doing this for Sam because Sam was the closest thing he had to a brother…but it seemed he was doing it for himself as well.

"Ok…ok." The moment became slightly uncomfortable. "So what are your plans today? You need a ride somewhere?" asked Sam, swirling the remaining dregs of the coffee.

"No, Hetty's coming over shortly. We have some things to talk about the case and some loose ends to tie up. I'm good Sam." He was sincere as he looked at Sam. His eyes were kind and friendly. They were G's eyes. "You on the other hand, need to freshen up and go catch up with Raina and the kids. Tell them I said hi."

"Yeah…kids have got soccer today. I missed that. Ok…don't do anything stupid until Hetty gets here," warned Sam smiling.

"Stupid never…reckless, rash, careless maybe but not today. I've had my share of excitement for a while. I'll be ok…GO!" finished Callen.

Sam placed down his mug and nodded waving to Callen as he left his friend still sitting on the kitchen stool. As soon as Sam left, Callen relaxed and his body slumped from the exhaustion. That performance for Sam had taken a lot out of him. The coffee didn't seem to be having any effect. He felt drowsy so he decided to go back to bed. He knew Hetty would be picking him up soon to take him back to the hospital for a check up and some more tests, but for the moment all Callen wanted to do was sleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Sam slid into his car when his phone rang. He looked at the ID.

"_Hetty, what's up?"_

"_Morning Mr. Hanna. How is Mr. Callen this morning?" asked Hetty._

"_Ok…he just looks tired but I'm worried," said Sam honestly._

"_Don't be. I'm on my way. We'll sort this out Mr. Hanna. You just go home rest," she paused, "and thank you Mr. Hanna."_

"_No need. Bye Hetty."_

Hetty had ended the call and was just about to leave OPS when Kensi came running down the stairs, "Hetty!" Her voice was loud and it was urgent. Hetty stopped and turned facing Kensi.

"Miss Blye what's all the commotion?" asked Hetty taken aback.

"There was a terrorist attack at the Naval base at Jacksonville. Good news is they stuffed up and they were caught. The 6 men involved are in custody and one is singing. Guess whose name came up?" asked Kensi goadingly.

"Brenko," confirmed Hetty smiling. Kensi nodded. "We need to bring this SOB in. Miss Blye I have something I need to do first. Call Director Vance and inform him of the links we have made. We need a trap for this foul beast. This is something we can't do on our own. Tell I will call him soon."

"Ok. But can't your 'thing' wait. This is important," questioning Kensi tentatively…after all no one questions Hetty.

"This thing is Mr. Callen and no, he can't wait. Now please follow my orders Miss Blye," said Hetty a bit too harshly.

Kensi was hurt but understandably. "Sure, right away…and sorry." Kensi turned on her heels and headed upstairs.

Hetty looked up at her gifted agent. She had been too harsh. She was tired and this latest development would mean no rest and no reprieve. Callen needed her now and that's all that mattered. The drive to Callen's house had not been taxing; the traffic was basically non-existent but her anxiety wasn't. She carefully maneuvered around the broken cobblestones of Callen's pathway, murmuring profanities under her breath until she reached the doorbell. Her aged finger rang the bell. There was no answer. She waited and her heartbeat increased. She rang again. She waited and shifted her weight from side to side. Yet no answer. _Third time lucky_ she thought. Nothing. Nothing whatsoever. Hetty took out her spare key and turned it carefully. She stepped into Callen's house, "Mr. Callen." Her anxiety rose. She was certain that Sam had said Callen was fine. She continued her exploration of the house, "Mr. Callen." Then she headed for his bedroom. He hadn't even made it to his bed. He was sprawled face down on the floor next to his bed. That's how she found him. She moved faster than she thought she could and her fingers went hunting for a pulse, it was there, slow and weak. She took out her phone and dialed 911.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Oops a cliffhanger….


	19. Chapter 19

Final chapter…

**Chapter 19**

Hetty hated how familiar this scenario was starting to feel. She stood in the waiting room buffeted by all the flurry of medical staff, like a ragged flag on an enemy's war field. She had missed the opportunity to talk to Callen about his illness and here it was asserting its presence, forcing her to evaluate her priorities. She was dull to the pain and to the foreboding of losing Callen. She had imagined her life without him so many times; times when he didn't know she existed. That picture scared her. Thoughts of Clara, the list of foster homes, the nights spent bailing him out of jail, watching him join NCIS, his discovery of his Romanian heritage and his kamikaze mission to save her in Romania, rolled over and over in her mind like an old black and white movie show. She could have done things differently. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. It may have changed things, then on the other hand, it might have made no difference at all. Hetty let out a sigh and pulled herself together…rose colored glasses weren't an option.

"How bad?" A deep masculine authoritative voice broke her reverie. She jolted back to reality. "Hetty –"

Hetty swallowed slowly composing herself and trying to find her voice, "I don't know. I haven't heard anything as yet," she said avoiding the intense stare coming from Sam.

"He was ok when I left. He looked tired but ok. If I had seen anything Hetty, I would've called him on it. I would have stayed," said a contrite Sam.

"Not your fault Mr. Hanna. This rests on my shoulders alone. I should have told him and not let him dictate the terms. Let's hope it's not too late. Any word of the developments in Miami?" she said changing the subject. However her tone didn't change. There was a deep sadness there. There was no point harping on the blame game. Their closed investigation had been suddenly ripped open.

"Not much. Kensi is still waiting on the results from the interrogation of the 6 Islamic youths and their leaders. Meanwhile Eric and Nell are searching for any known links between the group we arrested and the one in Miami," Sam informed Hetty.

"Did you tell them about Mr. Callen?" she said quietly.

"No. I figured they had enough on their plate. Once we find out then…" He looked down at his small but fierce boss. Suddenly she didn't look so fierce. She resembled a desperate mother waiting anxiously for news on her son. He placed his strong arm around her shoulders and drew her close. He felt her tremble at the touch. "Hetty, come and sit down. I'll get us a cup of tea."

"No, no I am fine," she whispered unconvincingly.

Sam smiled gently, "Please do it for me." She looked up at him. Knowing Sam the way she did, she nodded kindly without saying a word and gave in.

Hours passed. Hetty and Sam remained sitting together while waiting for news on Callen. Neither said anything, they didn't feel they needed to. There was only one thought coursing through Sam's mind; the longer the wait, the more serious the prognosis. It was then Dr. Taylor approached the pair, "Hetty…Agent Hanna. May I?" he motioned to the chair opposite them. Sam nodded, as did Hetty.

"Sorry it took so long but with Mr. Callen's history we had to run a myriad of tests. Most of them took a while to process. We needed to be thorough," explained Dr. Taylor not looking particularly distressed.

"So? How's G?" asked an anxious Sam, as Hetty placed a hand on his knee.

"Mr. Callen's collapse was due to exhaustion, low blood pressure and dehydration - nothing menacing. His palette count is no worse than before, which considering what he's had to endure the last few weeks, is remarkable." Suddenly Dr. Taylor saw Hetty and Sam transform in front of him. They were thankful and happy. Sam had to struggle to hold back the tears. "I take it you're relieved then?" he smiled.

"Oh you don't know the half of it Dr. Taylor. Where do we go from here?" asked Hetty.

"He needs a couple of days in hospital for observation. We need to get his body well enough for it to start functioning normally again, so that means rest and plenty of it. We rehydrate him and bump up his immune system. No excuses this time. No special world saving missions, or early discharge…nothing. I will chain him to the bed if I have to. Then it's weekly checkups until I'm satisfied. He knows this already."

"G's conscious?…He's awake?" asked a surprised Sam, dying to see his partner.

"Yes he is and quite lucid. We've discussed his condition, the Chronic Lymphocytic Leukaemia and he took if fairly well. He was curious as to the effects and the treatments and whether or not he could continue working…which was quite interesting. Says a lot about the man," explained Dr. Taylor sporting a wry smile.

"Yes, yes it does. So he was ok with it?" asked Sam surprised.

Smiling, Dr. Taylor shook his head, "No I didn't say that. He took it well but I wouldn't venture to say he's ok with it. This is where you all come in. He doesn't want a hospital appointed psychologist…heck he doesn't want one at all. But Callen needs to talk about his condition and the effects it's going to have on his life. If you can't get him to open up he will find it difficult and this inability to cope will be detrimental to his ongoing treatment."

"Good to see some things don't change. He is stubborn as always. There is someone who can help…I just need to find him and fly him in. I will make sure he speaks to a professional. Thank you Dr. Taylor. May we see him?" asked Hetty, making it sound more like an order than a request.

"Of course. This way."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Back at OPS**

"Agent Blye, I need to get in touch with Hetty urgently. She isn't answering her cell," demanded Director Vance via the Sat link.

"She's…I don't know where she is," responded Kensi trying to remain cool under the dominant stare of Vance.

He looked murderous but proceeded nevertheless. "With the intel provided to the Miami branch by Mr. Beale and Miss Jones, we managed to come up with a common denominator…a certain Brenko. The team has him in custody awaiting questioning," explained a tense and abrupt Vance.

"You have Brenko…Mikhail Brenko? Are you sure?" asked Deeks feeling somewhat braver than Kensi.

"Mr. Deeks the man they have in custody matches the prints and the visual recognition that was supplied to us by your intel team. So the answer is yes. I'm going to speak to him soon and I would appreciate that you use all your technological might to locate Miss Lange…immediately." Vance ended the conversation and the visual link by his usual cut-throat gesture.

"Man he can be an asshole," said Eric silently spinning on his chair.

Nell shrugged her shoulders, "I suppose that's why he so good at his job."

"Maybe…but we need to find Hetty ASAP…Eric?" said a disconcerted Kensi walking around nervously.

"Initiating GPS as we speak…ok…narrowing….narrowing….got it. She's at the hospital. Why?" asked Eric looking at Kensi and Deeks.

"Oh that's right, she was going to take Callen for a check up. If her cell's off, use the emergency pager," said Kensi hoping this nightmare would finally end.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callen's Room**

Callen saw them enter his room and he could see how worried and frightened they were, so he smiled and pulled himself up straighter; looking braver than he felt. His body protested but he fought the fatigue. "So back here again. They should name a wing after me," he said trying to lighten the mood.

"Not funny G. Good news though…Doc said you're ok. But you have to stop scaring us like this?" said Sam moving closer to Callen's bed.

"Sorry…" Callen mumbled feeling incredibly uncomfortable as he saw Hetty.

Hetty had previously stood at a distance but now she moved closer to the bed and grabbed Callen's hand. Her face was unreadable; it wasn't gentle yet there was a hint of emotion, which one he wasn't sure. Callen responded in kind, scowling in confusion. "Mr. Callen you gave me an incredible reminder of our mortality today. I don't ever want to live through that again. I thought you dead and I'm not ready to lose you yet, not by a long shot." Her hand gripped tighter and her voice became sterner, "**You** **will** do as the doctor says. **You will **remain here until he is confident that you may be discharged and **you will not** coerce, threaten, bribe or charm your way out. Am I clear Mr. G. Callen?"

Callen cocked an eyebrow and smirked, "Absolutely crystal clear. I will behave I promise."

"Good and as to the other matter of the leukemia…we will need to talk about that when you are ready. I'll be calling Nate." Suddenly Callen's eyes shot to Sam.

Sam smiled lifting his hands in appeasement, "It's ok G…Hetty told me."

Callen wasn't happy as he looked at Hetty, "Does confidential mean anything to you Hetty? You had no right."

Hetty took a moment and ran her aged hand down Callen's face cupping his cheek, "You need to learn to trust. You need to learn to let people care about you. You need to understand how important you are to us all. You are not a hindrance, you are neither a burden nor a nuisance that we tolerate. Let us love you Mr. Callen, accept it and stop fighting it…please. I had to tell Mr. Hanna. I had no option…we are family after all." Then she let her hand slide to his hand. Sam just smiled. He could see that Callen was doomed.

Callen found it hard to maintain his composure. His eyes welled with tears and a few escaped their prison. Hetty smiled. Sam reminisced as to why G. Callen had become his best friend and brother. He could be cold and heartless. That came with years of conditioning and the nature of his job but it was far from whom he really was. Moments like these, when he was stripped of his defenses, when he inadvertently allowed himself to be unmasked, Sam caught glimpses of that little boy that lost his innocence that fateful day on that Romanian beach. It was his face Sam saw crying at Hetty's touch. He understood now why his leaving had hurt Callen so. That little boy had been left so many times and it was that little boy that needed protecting.

Suddenly Hetty's pager sprung to life and it shattered the moment like a thunder strike on a still night. They all jumped.

"That's your pager," said Callen, his curiosity biting whilst wiping away the tears. Suddenly that little boy was gone…again.

"I'll need to take this."

With Hetty gone, Sam moved closer and sat next to his partner, "Sorry G…I forced Hetty's hand. I forced her to tell me."

His eyes still red, he looked at Sam, "No one forces Hetty to do anything she doesn't want to. My secret never stood a chance." Sam laughed once, then laughed again louder as a small smile crept onto Callen's face.

"But seriously this whole damn situation sucks."

Callen didn't want Sam's pity but he was just too tired to play the hero. He was going to let his defenses down…a bit and revel in some human comfort especially Sam's. He wasn't sure how he felt. The nature of the doctor's revelation came as quite a shock, although Callen knew something hadn't been right for a long time. He had been too worried about Sam and his family to bother looking after himself. He wasn't afraid of dying, heck he faced that possibility everyday. He was afraid of wasting away and the burden he'd become to his friends. He could not handle that at all. So he'd fight this and he'd win because Callen didn't lose.

"What? The fact that I'm here again or that I've been diagnosed with Chronic Lymphocytic Leukaemia," said Callen, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Everything…our life these past few years. The stupid choices we've made. It's just a damn slap in the face." Callen let out a chuckle watching Sam beat himself up over all again. "You know what, this is a sign. A warning, an omen that we should focus on what's important in our lives."

"Sam really? The God excuse? Please. You know I'm an atheist…this happened because it just did and we don't need omens or signs or fortune cookies to tell us what's important, Sam. You said a few days ago that I didn't have to come and get you. But yeah, I did. You are important to me, Raina, the kids. How could I have ever faced them if I had done nothing? How could I have faced myself if I didn't bring you home? Kensi's important, Eric and Nell, Hetty and even Deeks…and Hetty's right, you guys are important because you are the closet things I've ever had to family. This thing…it's happened and I'll deal with it," said Callen smiling wholeheartedly.

"We'll deal with it G. There is no way I am or any of the team is going to let you deal with this on your own. You need support and you need family around you…"

Callen started shaking his head, "No…no. I don't want them to know. They'll only look at me differently and start second guessing my decisions. I'll lose their respect Sam."

"Are you serious G? They need to know. There can be no more secrets between us. You'll never lose their…our respect G. It'll make us stronger," finished Sam smiling at his friend.

They shared a moment and suddenly Callen pictured himself with a future and he returned Sam's smile. For the first time in a very long time, a twinkle shone in Callen's blue eyes.

Hetty walked in solemnly. Kensi's call and Vance's subsequent reprimand troubled Hetty greatly. She had to get back to OPS. They didn't see her worry. They didn't see Hetty change from concern to levity, "Good to see you boys playing nice…excellent."

"Bad news Hetty?" asked Callen. She had forgotten how well he could read her.

She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes, "No just the usual… Director Vance updating me on developments of a mission in Miami. I'll fill you in later Mr. Callen. Mr. Hanna you're needed at OPS as well." She moved closer to Callen, "I will come by later and we will talk. For now mull over what I said and REST." She patted his arm affectionately, smiled at Sam and left.

"So G…I'll swing by after my shift and we'll catch a game on TV. Then in a few days when you're out, Raina and the kids would love to have you over for dinner…put some meat on that skinny ass of yours," laughed Sam. "Good to have you back G."

"Yeah…" Callen meant it.

Sam left and Callen watched the door close. He felt calm despite the death sentence he had been dealt. His eyelids heavy drooped closed as he fell asleep into restorative slumber.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Back at OPS**

"How's Callen?" asked Deeks livening up at the sight of Hetty.

"Well and getting the much needed rest he deserves, Mr. Deeks. Now to pressing matters, Miss Blye you said Director Vance is interrogating Brenko himself?" asked Hetty facing Kensi.

"Yes…Is Sam coming?" asked Kensi looking over Hetty's shoulder.

"He'll be here shortly Miss Blye then you can fill us in," said Hetty when Eric piped up.

"Incoming video call…Director Vance, Hetty."

"Leon…"

"Hetty, I see you got my message," he said. Hetty looked at Leon. She knew his pissed off face, this wasn't it. This was worse. Something was wrong.

"Yes. Leon what's wrong?" asked Hetty and Sam quietly made his entrance.

Leon took a breath, "I tried to interrogate Brenko. He refused to talk quite adamantly. He said he would only talk to you. Are you ready Hetty?" said Leon curtly.

"Now?" asked a surprised Hetty.

"Yes…Agent Thomas, you may begin." They saw a frenzy of images and movements as the camera was readjusted to focus on the prisoner.

"Brenko, this is Miss Lange," said Leon who was sitting adjacent to Brenko.

A sickly smile spread over Brenko's face, "Yes I know Miss Henrietta Lange very well. Her file is quite a read."

"Mr. Brenko I am at a disadvantage. You know me but I don't know you," continued Hetty unnerved. The rest of the team stood holding their breath at the sudden revelation.

"No you don't. I'm not as interesting as you and your adventures," baited Brenko.

"That's enough Brenko…enough with the games. You said you'd talk to Miss Lange. I've got you Miss Lange, so talk," pressed an angry Leon.

"Now I know you can detain me on suspicion of trading weapons but you have no proof. So you will let me go," said Brenko smugly.

"We will be the judges of that Mr. Brenko. Who do you liaise for? Who is your supplier?" asked Hetty moving closer to the screen. Sam was at her back.

"You see the conglomerate I allegedly liaise with gave me a few _Get out of Jail_ free cards if ever the moment arose. I will be using one now," continued Brenko.

"Enough with the games Mr. Brenko. What is the conglomerate called?" asked an annoyed Hetty.

"You may have heard of Koba amongst your travels, Miss Lange." Brenko dropped the bomb. Hetty looked like she had seen a ghost. Her face went pale as her hand gripped the edge of the table. "Oh…yes I can see you have."

"Enough Brenko…" said Leon tersely, not wanting him to dictate and derail the interview. He too, saw Hetty's reaction.

"No." Brenko moved closer to the camera and stared directly at the diminutive woman. "Miss Lange, understands what Koba means. My _Get out of Jail _card is G. CALLEN." Hetty didn't say a word as she stood stoically. Kensi turned to Sam, then in turn to Deeks. They shrugged their shoulders. _What had G got himself into now_? thought Sam.

After a moment she found her voice, "Director Vance we need a moment. Your private line please." Before the video link was severed, she heard Brenko laughing. She didn't look at anybody as she made her way to her desk.

The team was left dumbstruck. "What the hell happened?" asked Sam looking lost.

"I have no idea. Who or what is Koba? Why is Callen involved?" asked Kensi looking at Deeks.

"Hey I'm new here. This is twisted and wrong…Eric, Nell?" asked Deeks.

"We're on it. Every time we search Koba we get an error message that we can't hack," said Eric, almost in utter disbelief.

Hetty sat in her chair and took a deep breath, picking up her phone, "Leon, this is all I know and it's not much." She spoke for a while. Then she stopped, "Yes, I understand. You must let him go. He is but a minnow. He might lead us to the bigger fish." She stopped again and listened to Leon talking. She was quietly shaking her head. "Please if you ever valued our friendship and my loyalty, let Brenko go or else Mr. Callen will die." She stopped again for a short time. "Yes and Leon thank you." She ended the call and hated the fact that scum like Brenko would be released but they had no choice. She pulled the scotch from the drawer in her desk along with a glass and took a long drink. Now she'd have to face her agents. Hetty stood and lifted her head and saw Sam glaring at her.

"How much did you hear?" she asked coldly.

"All of it including the part about them killing Callen," spat out Sam. "What or who is Koba?"

"Not much is known, Mr. Hanna. But they…he…she whom ever they are, need to be taken seriously. Mr. Callen doesn't know anything either and I want to keep it that way for now. Your silence on the matter is of paramount importance Mr. Hanna. Are we agreed?" said Hetty, leaving Sam no choice but to agree.

He nodded unhappily, "I hate keeping secrets from G."

"I know Mr. Hanna, as do I. But presently we have no other option."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Three Days Later**

The team accepted Hetty's vague explanation although they weren't entirely convinced. Normal routines and habits started to return, except for Hetty, who seemed to be particularly overprotective of them all. Sam had arrived to pick up Callen from the hospital and take him home. He'd be at work in the next day or two. Light duties were on the agenda for a while which he didn't seem too pleased about. "G, it's only for a while," said Sam slapping his partner on the back.

"Easy for you to say. Come on, you can carry my bag. Make yourself useful," said Callen smiling. He started to walk out of the room when Sam called out having noticed the flowers.

"G! The flowers? Secret admirer?" asked Sam whilst turning the card over. It was then that he froze.

"Someone called Koba. I told the delivery guy they probably weren't for me but he insisted. Just leave them or pass them onto the nurses," grumbled Callen. He just wanted to leave the infernal place. Sam took the card and placed it in his pocket.

Would there ever be peace for Callen…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx FIN xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Readers of my previous story, I hope you have recognised the name? Did you have that "ooooo" moment.

I couldn't help myself…it was just too tempting. A sequel may be on the cards, but not yet…Thanks for the support.


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